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The Kiss of Pharaoh 
































THE 

KISS OF PHARAOH 


THE LOVE STORY 
OF TUTANKHAMEN 

BY 

RICHARD GOYNE 



•> 

> > 
> > > 


> 


NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

MCMXXIII 












Copyright , 1923, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 

All Rights Reserved 


( 


< c 

< t « 


Printed in the United States of America 


SEP 22 W23 

©C1A759Q77 

'Vi l 



s. 


CHAPTER 

CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I 

The God of Egypt 

3 

II 

The Secret Chamber . 

25 

III 

The Wrath of Pharaoh . 

47 

IV 

The Sands of Time 

. 69 

V 

The Hour of Fate 

• 93 

VI 

The Beginning and the End . 

119 

VII 

The Sword of Destiny 

. 143 

VIII 

The Vengeance of Hiljah 

• 173 

IX 

A Strange Command . 

. 201 

X 

The Cloud of War . 

. 225 

XI 

The Carpet of Death 

. 255 

XII 

The Loom of the Future 

. 275 

XIII 

The Secrets of the Desert 

• 295 






f 









The Kiss of Pharaoh 










4 


I 

THE GOD OF EGYPT 




\ 



THE 

KISS OF PHARAOH 


i 


THE GOD OF EGYPT 


W ITHIN the palace of Pharaoh 

Akhnaton, at Thebes, one after¬ 
noon three thousand years ago, 
all was bustle and excitement. 

Under the ill-tempered orders of higher 
officials, half naked, burly Nubian slaves 
passed hither and thither in obvious haste 
and, from the balconies, hidden from the 
curious eye of the passer-by, veiled Egyp¬ 
tian beauties, with fast-beating hearts, re¬ 
clined on gilded couches and gazed tire¬ 
lessly out across the desert. 

[3] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


One of these women, of great personal 
charm and exquisite figure, seemed even 
more restless than her companions. The 
attentions of those who stood discreetly be¬ 
hind her luxurious divan indicated that she 
was a lady of rank and position. 

Clad in a white, filmy robe that reached 
from her soft, graceful neck to her dainty 
papyrus and gazelle-skin sandals of pale 
red, this dark-eyed, graceful beauty had 
good reason to feel the excitement of this 
moment more than others of her sex who 
reclined in these shaded balconies of the 
palace. 

Last night, at the going-down of the sun, 
a messenger had come out of the purple dis¬ 
tance of the desert, bringing glad news. 

Pharaoh Akhnaton, King of all Egypt, 
who had been absent with his armies, had 
crushed the rebellion among the Nubian 
tributaries and was even now on his way to 
the palace. To-day he would arrive, sur- 

[4] 



The God of Egypt 


rounded by his soldiers, bringing with him 
rich spoils of war and thousands of cap¬ 
tives. 

To all who resided within the grim walls 
of the Palace of Thebes, this was news for 
rejoicing and hasty preparation for the re¬ 
ception of their royal master. 

But to her who waited, now with 
the keenest anticipation, Pharaoh’s return 
meant a great deal more than that. These 
others were but the servants and slaves of 
the victor. She, the beautiful Queen Hero- 
tah, was his consort, and all knew how 
deeply she was beloved of him. 

She turned quietly and beckoned her 
chief attendant. 

“Charmion, I bid thee inquire further of 
the guards if there is yet news of our mas¬ 
ter. Hurry, child! This suspense is weary- 
mg. 

The graceful Charmion—a young girl, 
slight but attractive of figure, whose fea- 

[5] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


tures were almost as delicately molded as 
those of her mistress—bowed respectfully 
and moved back to speak to a female slave 
standing in the shadow of an archway. The 
slave quickly disappeared, but she was back 
in a moment and whispered into Charmion’s 
ear. 

“Well, child?” Herotah questioned, 
sharply. “What news?” 

Charmion shook her head, slowly. 

“There is none as yet, O Queen!” 

Her mistress nodded and frowned irri¬ 
tably. Yet, as if to contradict the words of 
Charmion, one of the women reclining near 
the edge of the balcony started suddenly, 
shaded her brow with slim, yellow-tipped 
fingers, and gasped. 

Finally, she turned toward the Queen, 
with a smile playing around her thin lips. 

“Mistress, there are riders from the 
desert. See, O Queen, how the sands are 
clouding in the mist. Methinks . . .” 

[6] 



The God of Egypt 


But Herotah had risen and she, too, was 
gazing out to the horizon. 

“Yes,” she murmured, “I can see. Char- 
mion, child,” she commanded, “we will go 
in and complete our toilet.” 

As the ladies retired to an inner apart¬ 
ment, one might have seen a gathering host 
of men and chariots coming into view at 
what, to the naked eye, seemed to be the 
very edge of the desert. Gradually, the 
moving mass grew, appeared to gather 
speed and rolled on toward Thebes. 

It was not long before the sound of 
trumpets could be heard, and the shining 
armor of Pharaoh’s captains glistened in the 
sunlight. 

At length the vast army was assembled 
before the palace and the countless groups 
of captives, bent under their chains at the 
rear of the ranks of soldiers, gazed with 
wondering eyes at the huge, imposing pile 
which was the home of their victor. 

[7] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Presently, the King himself—a well- 
built, tall figure in his glittering suit of 
mail—was striding along toward the palace, 
between the lines of guards, and as he 
reached the gates he smiled pleasantly at 
the gorgeously attired High Counselor, who 
bowed low in greeting. 

This one, of elderly but dignified appear¬ 
ance, was Hiljah, a wily Nubian who had 
been raised to his high position by virtue of 
his favor with his master. 

“Welcome, O Pharaoh, mighty in battle, 
conqueror and master of Egypt,” he 
chanted; and Akhnaton, laying a heavy 
hand upon his counselor’s shoulder, bade 
him rise and lead the way into the palace. 

“It is a pleasant meeting,” the King said 
as they passed through the great entrance 
hall. “Those who dared to raise their 
hands against me have fallen to my sword.” 

Hiljah smiled with evil delight. 

“It is well said, O Master! But there are 

[8] 



The God of Egypt 


greater things to come. Remember, O 
King, thou wentest forth in the name of the 
god Aton, who hath brought success to thine 
arms.” 

A light of triumph flashed across the 
strong features of the monarch. 

“It is as thou sayest, Hiljah. My people 
have worshiped Amon in vain. He is a 
false god and, henceforth, Egypt shall bow 
before the great Aton—god of the Sun, the 
spirit of life and fertility. It shall be so, 
even from this day. I, Pharaoh, have sworn 
it!” 

The pair had turned now, and stood to¬ 
gether before the prostrated multitude of 
courtiers and servants in the main hall. The 
glitter of the brazen lamps and ornaments, 
the dazzling color of dresses and tapestries, 
and the assembly of noble men and fair 
women made indeed a spectacle fit for the 
reception of Egypt’s royal master. Around 
the huge dais, on which stood the thrones of 

[9] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Pharaoh and his royal consort, were gath¬ 
ered the attendants and daughters of Queen 
Herotah, while she herself stood eagerly 
awaiting the moment when her king should 
approach to embrace her. 

Pharaoh paused on the threshold to sur¬ 
vey the assembly, while a slow smile of tri¬ 
umph irradiated his dark face. 

The company rose and bowed again. 

“Hail, royal Egypt! Hail, Pharaoh, 
mighty in battle! Lord of life and death!” 

The acclamations subsided and a hush 
fell upon the assembly as Pharaoh turned 
and passed majestically toward the throne. 
The dignified Herotah moved forward to 
greet him and, taking his hand, knelt hum¬ 
bly at his feet. 

The King, deeply touched, paused for a 
moment and then placed his other hand 
upon her rich, black tresses. 

“Arise, fair Herotah. Thou art indeed 
more beautiful than ever. Come, let us 

[IO] 



The God of Egypt 


ascend the throne, and thou shalt see the 
spoils of the conflict and the prisoners which 
I, Pharaoh, have taken.” 

Together they took their places upon the 
throne and, with a wave of his hand, the 
King commanded Hiljah to request one of 
his generals to attend immediately. 

The soldier was ushered in and, acting on 
his master’s orders, he retired and strode 
out to where the guards were marshaling 
the prisoners into some sort of order. 

In a few moments the procession of the 
vanquished commenced. Still stumbling 
beneath the weight of their chains, they 
passed slowly before the throne, each one 
bowing, under fear of death if he refused 
to pay homage to the King and his consort. 
Some of them were made to carry the price¬ 
less spoils of war which had been captured. 
These they piled high upon the steps of the 
throne, and, with a gesture of respect, the 
bearers turned and rejoined their compan- 

[Hi 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


ions, ultimately passing out of the great hall. 

This stream of dejected humanity seemed 
as though it would never end. Herotah 
was well pleased with the spectacle and laid 
a slim hand upon her royal master’s. 

“Thou hast indeed conquered greatly, 
King! Are there no limits to the numbers 
of thy prisoners?” 

Pharaoh smiled. 

“There are many, as thou sayest, Hero¬ 
tah! Their labor will be valuable in the 
project I have in mind.” 

The Queen frowned slightly, and then 
smiled. 

“Whatever thou seest fit is well, O Mas¬ 
ter! And what, then, of this project of 
thine ? Thou knowest how greatly it will in¬ 
terest thy consort.” 

The King did not answer immediately, 
but when he did he spoke with a confiden¬ 
tial air. 

[12] 



The God of Egypt 


“Thou knowest, woman, that I went forth 
to battle in the name of Aton?” 

Herotah nodded. There were few who 
had not trembled at the incredible daring 
of Pharaoh in calling unto such a god. 
Amon was the god of Egypt, and the High 
Priest, Rah Neb, and his brotherhood had 
been greatly angered at the monarch’s bra¬ 
vado. Powerful as he was, Pharaoh had 
been unwise to offend the priesthood of 
Amon, and it was, perhaps, fortunate for 
him that Rah Neb had regarded the matter 
only as an expression of one of the King’s 
frequent moods of infidelity to the god of 
Egypt. 

Had Pharaoh, the Queen wondered, with 
fear in her heart, not yet forgotten his boast 
of adherence to this god Aton? Would he 
still persist in his foolish decision to estab¬ 
lish Aton as the prevailing deity in his 
kingdom? 


[13] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Mighty One,” she urged, “tell me that 
thou hast done with this . . . this god 
Aton. Surely it is unwise, even for one so 
great as thou, to offend Amon in such \a 
way.” 

A wave of dignified anger surged through 
Pharaoh. He thrust his consort aside. 

“Listen, Herotah,” he said after a pause. 
“Did I not go forth to battle in the name of 
Aton? Hath not this god brought success 
to mine arms? Have I not conquered?” 

“True, O Egypt, but . . .” 

“Thwart me not, woman! I have said it! 
My word, throughout all Egypt, is as Life 
or Death. Who can withstand the com¬ 
mand of Pharaoh?” 

He had turned, as he spoke, to the wily 
Hiljah who, standing just behind the throne, 
had been listening with evil satisfaction to 
all that had passed. As Pharaoh com¬ 
manded, he stepped forward. 

“Thy servant, O Mighty One.” 

[h] 



The God of Egypt 


“Rememberest thou of what we spoke a 
moment since, Counselor?” 

Hiljah nodded. 

“True, O Master, I remember well. 
Thou saidest . . .” 

But the King had turned and was gazing 
fixedly in the direction of the main entrance. 
There, standing erect before the eyes of all 
who were within the hall, surrounded by a 
glittering train carrying the effigy of Amon, 
the sacred god, stood the great Rah Neb, 
his eyes fixed upon the figure of the King, 
waiting for the royal invitation to approach. 

Pharaoh arose, in the tense silence, and 
motioned Hiljah, who was moving forward, 
to remain still. Then, with his hand upon 
his sword, he turned toward the old High 
Priest of Amon. 

“Well, Rah Neb? What desirest thou 
with Pharaoh?” 

The old priest, in a gorgeous robe of of¬ 
fice, stroked his long, silvery beard nerv- 

[iS] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


ously. When he spoke, his deep solemn 
voice rang through the hall. 

“It is well, O Egypt! Thou hast con¬ 
quered.” 

Pharaoh nodded, while he waited with 
imperious mien for the High Priest to speak 
further. 

“I warned thee, O Monarch, when thou 
wentest forth, to beware lest thy professed 
allegiance to Aton should bring upon thy 
head the righteous wrath of the only true 
god, Amon, the deity of Egypt and his lesser 
deities. But Amon hath been kind to thee. 
Thou hast conquered. It must be that thou 
hast seen fit to withdraw thy profession of 
infidelity. It is with gladness that I am 
here, O Egypt, to joy with thee and thy 
court, and to bear to thy throne the sacred 
image of Amon, god of gods.” 

The King, trembling with anger, turned 
to his High Counselor with a look of in¬ 
credulity. 

[16] 



The God of Egypt 


“Hearest thou, Hiljah?” 

“Yea,” answered his servant. “Rah Neb 
speaketh with profanity and without re¬ 
spect, O Egypt!” 

Pharaoh turned. 

“Listen, all! I, Pharaoh, speak these 
words! Hear ye these words of blas¬ 
phemy?” 

“Yea,” answered the courtiers loudly; 
for they, in their master’s absence, had 
turned, at his wish, from the worship of 
Amon, and had adopted the god Aton as 
their deity. “We hear, O Egypt!” 

“Then give ear unto me,” Pharaoh went 
on in trumpet tones. “Rah Neb, High 
Priest of the evil gods! Darest thou to 
bring such insults into my royal presence? 
Knowest thou not that Aton hath brought 
victory to mine arms, thereby proving that 
he, and he alone, is the only true god?” 

He stretched his right hand holding forth 
the sacred scepter. 

[17] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Immediately two of the royal guards 
stepped from their posts at the doorway, 
and with rough hands stripped the gorgeous 
robe from the High Priest of Amon. 

“Take thou also the image of Amon from 
his bearers!” the King commanded; and 
this, too, was done. 

“Now, cursed one!” the King went on, 
scarcely able to contain his wrath. “Thou 
art degraded before the eyes of Pharaoh’s 
court! Egypt shall have done with thee 
and thy false god. Thy temples shall be 
razed to the dust and Aton, the true god, 
ally of Pharaoh and god of Egypt, shall 
prevail. Thy priesthood shall be dis¬ 
banded! Thine altars shall be defaced! 
Thy name shall be scorned, as shall be the 
name of Amon! I defy all who worship 
at his altar! I will have temples built to 
the worship of Aton, and all shall do my 
will. Even thou, Rah Neb, shalt worship 
at the shrine of Aton!” 

[18] 



The God of Egypt 


The King’s harsh laughter rang through 
the hall. 

“Now, O fool, what hast thou to say? 
Speak, ere I would have thee thrown from 
hence!” 

The esthetic features of Rah Neb had 
paled under the outburst. But the hand that 
caressed his flowing beard did not falter. 
His eyes had not moved from the eyes of 
Pharaoh. Now he stepped forward, bowed 
slightly, and spoke again: 

“I have heard, Pharaoh. Mine ears have 
been pained at thine unrighteous anger. 
Mine eyes have been sore to see thee, the 
ruler of Egypt, as thou art now. Thou wast 
a king, and a great king. Thy mind hath 
been poisoned by lying tongues and evil 
thoughts. Thy glory hath departed from 
thee, O Pharaoh! Evil hath come upon 
thee! There shall come another king from 
out of obscurity who shall sit upon the 
throne of Pharaoh and glorify again the 

[i9] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


name of Amon! I speak these words from 
out of the lips of Amon, the only true god 
of Egypt. Hearken, thou sinful one, and 
all thy courtiers. I, Rah Neb, High Priest 
of Amon, appointed to his temples for the 
administration of his will . . . have 
spoken.” 

H is daring words filled the assembly 
with terror. Pharaoh for a moment seemed 
to cringe beneath the storm of wrath. But 
as Rah Neb turned and, followed by his 
train of priests, quietly withdrew from the 
hall, he drew himself up to his full height, 
conquered the desire to slay the departing 
priest with his own sword, and raised his 
right hand aloft. 

“Hail, Aton!” he cried aloud. “Hail, 
Aton, Sun-god of life and light!” 

The assembly would have cheered fanati¬ 
cally at the bidding of their king, had he 
not turned at a sound behind him and 

[ 20 ] 



The God of Egypt 


glanced to where his royal consort had been 
standing but a moment before. 

She had paled at the words of Rah Neb 
and glanced at Pharaoh with fear in her 
eyes. 

As he cried renewed allegiance to the 
Sun-god, she, a devout follower of Amon, 
could bear the strain no longer. With out¬ 
stretched arm she pointed, too, accusingly 
at her royal master. 

“Woe unto thee, Pharaoh, thou hast . . 

But, as Pharaoh turned, her words froze 
upon her lips and she fell, fainting, into the 
arms of her attendants. 


[21] 

















II 

THE SECRET CHAMBER 













II 


THE SECRET CHAMBER 

F 'MVE years had passed—years of evil 
for old Egypt. 

The decree of Pharaoh Akhna- 
ton had been obeyed to the letter. The god 
Amon had been defaced. Rah Neb and his 
priests, degraded from office and sup¬ 
posedly disbanded, had fled from the mighty 
temple of Karnak, and the few who had 
still clung to the old religion had paid 
the penalty of all who worshiped not the 
gods of Pharaoh— death. 

Aton, the Sun-god, had been established 
in a newly built temple, more imposing and 
more luxurious than that which had been 
the shrine of Amon. At the altar stood a 
new high priest, one Saket, a fanatical per- 

[25] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


secutor of all who came not to his temple, 
and sworn to root out the followers of the 
fallen god. 

Yet no sooner had Rah Neb and his 
priesthood fled from the wrath of Pharaoh, 
no sooner had the newly appointed Saket 
assumed his high office, than disaster upon 
disaster fell upon the land. The strength 
of the mighty armies of Akhnaton waned, 
their victories were turned into defeat and 
the number of their slain was multiplied by 
tens of thousands. 

But, worse than this, the stores of grain 
and the produce of the land failed, the crops 
withered and upon the heels of famine came 
pestilence and disease, sweeping with 
deathly fingers, foul with the stench of evil, 
far and near. 

In vain did Saket offer his oblations, at 
the head of his followers, in the temple of 
the Sun-god, in vain did Pharaoh shower 
priceless gifts upon the shrine of Aton. 

[26] 



The Secret Chamber 


Calamity turned into chaos, Egypt was 
threatened with almost every kind of disas¬ 
ter, and the heretic king became more and 
more desperate in his attachment to the new 
god as each day dragged on its weary, tragic 
course. 

“Aton,” he had cried, a hundred times, 
from the steps of his throne, “O thou, god 
of the Sun, spirit of life and fertility, what 
do my tributes and the offerings of my peo¬ 
ple lack? I and all my subjects have bowed 
to thee, O everlasting deity. What wouldst 
thou have that it may please thee to disperse 
the evil clouds that have darkened the skies 
of my kingdom?” 

Feverishly, more and yet more gifts were 
piled high upon the altar of Aton, and as 
surely the ravages of famine and pestilence 
grew apace. The common people began to 
murmur for the return of the old worship. 
Secretly the opinion was expressed that the 
words which Amon had inspired to the lips 

[27] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


of old Rab Neb, “There shall come another 
king out of obscurity, who shall rule,” were 
words of divination and prophecy. 

Even within Pharaoh’s court there were 
some—less boastful and confident than the 
rest—who eyed their monarch with a fear 
and dread born of the belief that some great 
catastrophe would befall the mighty ruler 
and his throne, and that such vengeance of 
the gods might fall upon their shoulders, 
as members of his court. 

But if Rah Neb and his priesthood were 
absent, under Pharaoh’s banishment, they 
were not forgotten. Neither, too, were their 
hands and brains as idle as Aton’s confident 
high priest must have thought. 

• • • • • 

It was night, and the deserted pile that 
was the temple of Karnak was wrapped in 
silence. Over its mighty pylon tower the 
moon shone coolly, and crowned the heavy 
stone-work with a halo of sold. 

[28] 



The Secret Chamber 


It was significant, too, this halo of the 
moon, even though within the great, majes¬ 
tic sanctuary no words of worship had 
passed for five long years. The effigy of 
Amon was there, upon its throne, bereft of 
all its adornments—in a building closed to 
all who walked abroad. The lamps and in¬ 
cense-bowls were cold with disuse, and the 
silence of the sanctuary by day and night 
had been translated from one of holy adora¬ 
tion into a dreary quiet that spread far into 
the dusty shadows of the roof. 

All this had Pharaoh done. His power 
it was that cleared the temple, defaced its 
god and degraded its ministers. He it was 
who had stamped out for all time the wor¬ 
ship of Amon, the god now so tragically 
seated on his desecrated throne. 

Yet stay—was it even within the power of 
a Pharaoh to tear the fervor of religion 
from the breasts of all men? Could even 
the mighty monarch turn his subjects, by a 

[29] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


single command, to the altar of another and 
stranger deity? 

Beneath the temple of Karnak, in a secret, 
subterranean chamber reached by many 
passages hidden from the outer world, there 
assembled—this night, when the halo of the 
moon lit upon the lofty pylon tower—a curi¬ 
ous company, indeed. 

At the far end of the secret chamber was 
throned an effigy, in human shape, wearing 
on its head a plain, deep circlet from which 
arose two straight parallel plumes. In its 
hand it held a scourge, and before it on the 
floor of the chamber a score of men were 
bowed. 

Was this the worship of Aton? 

No, this god was Amon, indeed, and these 
worshipers were priests of Amon, clad in 
their robes of holy office, muttering the 
prayers which no man dared utter above in 
the temple of Karnak. 

For a long time the prayers continued, 

[30] 



The Secret Chamber 


while the fumes of incense curled slowly 
upward, and then, from the head of the as¬ 
sembly, there arose an old man, wearing the 
most brilliant robe of all. 

This man was Rah Neb, High Priest of 
Amon, whom Pharaoh had spurned and 
banished. Standing erect at the foot of the 
shrine, he bade the worshipers—all of them 
priests, secretly in the service of the same 
god—give attention to what he had to say. 

A moment, he paused, his long, lean hand 
caressing his silvery beard. When he 
spoke, his deep voice resounded through the 
chamber and his eyes flashed with a strange 
light. 

“Brethren,” he began, “we are assembled 
here upon an urgent question. It is ever the 
same. Amon fighteth for us even as we fight 
for Amon. Egypt is desolate, famine is 
abroad, and pestilence stalketh through the 
land. 

“This, I say, is Pharaoh’s doing. 

[3i] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Through the evil tongues of his advisers, 
our monarch still upholds the cause of 
Aton, and not even the calamity which hath 
befallen Egypt can cool the false fire within 
his heart, and open his eyes to the truth. 

“For five years we have seen the ven¬ 
geance of our god, and we have watched the 
righteous punishment that hath come to this 
kingdom for the sins of her ruler. Famine, 
defeat in battle, pestilence—these are not 
enough. 

“I have communed, afresh, with the all- 
powerful Amon. Last night I lay in the 
silence of this shrine, and mine eyes were 
opened. 

“What cometh, I know not, but there is 
work for us to do. I am not acquainted 
with the task which lieth before us, but the 
spirit of Amon hath spoken. Here, at this 
hour, it is for us to await the revelation of 
our god, and, when this hour is past, we 

[32] 




The Secret Chamber 


shall go forward to fulfill the desires of 
Amon.” 

His voice ceased, and silence fell upon 
the assembly. Then the old Rah Neb com¬ 
menced to murmur many prayers, and the 
shoulders of the gathering bent again in 
worship. 

“Amon, ruler of all, to whom wisdom 
and knowledge are as an open book . . .” 

Suddenly, from a doorway at the end of 
the chamber, a sound was heard. The pray¬ 
ers ceased, and the dignified Rah Neb 
turned. 

“Who cometh to disturb the worship of 
Amon?” 

A tall, well-built figure approached from 
the doorway and, at the edge of the assem¬ 
bly, he bowed. 

“I have great news for thee, Rah Neb. 
Amon, our god, hath revealed his will.” 

All eyes were turned upon the newcomer. 

[33] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


But he met the gaze of the priests without a 
tremor. 

His name was El Caleb, and he was 
known to every one in that chamber. 
Five years before, his fame as warrior and 
statesman had ranked him among the most 
privileged of Pharaoh’s court. But he, like 
many others, had refused to bow the knee 
to the new god Aton. His faith in Amon 
had cost him everything. Chief Counselor 
of the Pharaohs, he had been driven from 
the palace in disgrace, and had found sanc¬ 
tuary in the secret temple of the deposed 
god, where he, with Rah Neb and his fol¬ 
lowers, had been plotting for the fall of 
Pharaoh Akhnaton. 

“It is well, El Caleb,” the High Priest 
said. “Tell us what news thou bringest.” 

El Caleb bowed again. 

“A woman waiteth without, and her 
words are for thee alone.” 

Rah Neb nodded slowly. 

[34] 



The Secret Chamber 


“I would see her, my son. Bid her 
enter.” 

El Caleb moved again to the door and 
opened it, to admit a woman, heavily veiled 
and leading by the hand a youth of surpris¬ 
ing grace and charm. 

Her garb was of the simplest, but her 
manner betrayed that she was not of com¬ 
mon birth. The veil, however, did not be¬ 
tray her identity and she passed up the long 
aisle, under the inquiring eyes of the priests, 
the boy holding tightly to her hand. 

Before the effigy of Amon, she bowed, 
fell to her knees and muttered a brief 
prayer, eventually turning to the waiting 
Rah Neb. 

“I bring to thee a charge,” she whispered, 
a little nervous of her mission, it seemed. 
“Here within this casket is a papyrus upon 
which is inscribed the secret of this youth’s 
birth, his horoscope which hath been drawn 
by the hand of Sampi, the Serpent-Woman, 

[35] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


and other things, Rah Neb, which are for 
thine eyes alone. Thou knowest me?” 

Rah Neb bowed. 

“I know thee well.” 

The woman had drawn a small casket 
from beneath her cloak and this she handed 
to the High Priest, at the same time push¬ 
ing forward the boy at her side. 

“Preserve this youth, O Rah Neb, in se¬ 
cret until the coming of the Day of Deliver¬ 
ance. It is by Amon’s will that these things 
are come to pass and that I am here. I dare 
not tarry. Take thou the casket and the 
youth. Care for him tenderly. Within the 
papyrus thou shalt find the reason. Fare¬ 
well!” 

With a further gesture of adoration to 
the effigy of Amon, she turned and retraced 
her steps toward the door, nodding grace¬ 
fully to the respectful figure of El Caleb, 
and passing out into the dim gloom of the 
passages. 


[36] 



The Secret Chamber 


As El Caleb moved toward the assembly, 
a curious thing happened. One of the 
priests, seated at the back of the chamber, 
rose and walked stealthily to the door. He 
was a slim, insignificant figure, and his ac¬ 
tions excited no curiosity. While the other 
priests were gazing expectantly at their high 
priest, who was now opening the casket, 
this one quietly passed out of sight through 
the passages, and hurried after the depart¬ 
ing woman. 

By the same secret way in which the pur¬ 
sued found her way back into the streets, so 
also did this one follow. At a discreet dis¬ 
tance, he tracked the woman through the 
rows of humble dwellings up to the very 
gates of the palace. 

Then, having witnessed her entry 
through a small door on the west side, he 
flew to another entrance and spoke excitedly 
to the soldier on guard. 

Awhile later he had passed into the lux- 

[37] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


urious halls of the palace of Pharaoh, and 
was joined, anon, by the stooping form of 
Hiljah, the High Counselor. 

Hiljah frowned as he recognized his visi¬ 
tor. This “priest” was a spy in the service 
of Pharaoh, and such men, even to their 
own masters, are things to be treated with 
but little respect. 

“Well, slave! What tidings dost thou 
bring? Thou didst attend this gathering of 
Rah Neb and his evil ones? Thou didst 
mark well what passed between them?” 

The spy, with a crafty leer, nodded and 
chafed his thin hands. 

“It is true, O Master! Mine ears marked 
well and mine eyes missed not even a ges¬ 
ture of those that were assembled in the 
secret places beneath the temple of Kar- 
nak.” 

Hiljah reclined on a purple divan and 
beckoned the spy to come closer. 

[38] 



The Secret Chamber 


“Speak but in a whisper, thou” he con¬ 
descended, with superfluous dignity, draw¬ 
ing in his silken robe lest the other’s touch 
should defile it. “What hast thou to say?” 

The spy bent low and his words were 
punctuated with sharp gestures of the hands, 
to emphasize the importance of the news he 
brought. 

“El Caleb was there, O Master, and there 
followed a woman, of graceful bearing, who 
led a pretty youth by the hand. C I bring 
thee a charge,’ she said, in the voice of one 
whom thou art acquainted with, O Master. 
Rah Neb took the child and a casket, in 
which was a papyrus of some importance, I 
gathered. This woman left at once, and 
thy servant, ever faithful to thy bidding, 
great master, followed.” 

Hiljah seemed impossible of surprise. 

“What knowest thou of this boy and his 
history?” 


[ 39 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Nay, I have not set mine eyes upon this 
lovely youth until this day, Great One of 
Wisdom!” 

“And Rah Neb but read the papyrus?” 

“As thou sayest. Whatever passed since, 
I cannot say. I followed the . . .” 

“Ah, the woman!” Hiljah seemed to re¬ 
turn from a trend of thought which he had 
been pursuing. His questions had been dis¬ 
interested, but now they were sharp, anx¬ 
ious. 

“What of this woman? Who is she?” 

The spy paused, as though the revelation 
was too great for one of his station to 
make. 

“She was the fairest of the fair, O Mas¬ 
ter, and . . .” 

Hiljah frowned. 

“Hurry, slave! Her name!” 

“Master, I . . .” 

“Her name!” thundered the Counselor, 
with glaring eyes. 

[40] 



The Secret Chamber 


The spy bent almost to the ground, and 
his lips revealed the secret in little more 
than a whisper. 

“She was the consort of our royal mas¬ 
ter, O One of Wisdom—Queen Herotah!” 

“Ah!” 

The muscles of the Counselor’s features 
contracted, and presently they relaxed into 
an evil smile. He looked down at the slave 
and spoke with added severity. 

“Go, thou, and remember that if one 
word of this shall pass thy lips . . .” 

The spy had already bowed in fear, and 
now, with great humility, he passed out of 
the presence of Hiljah and made his way 
out of the palace. 

When he had gone, the Counselor beck¬ 
oned one of the Nubian slaves on guard at 
the door. 

“Thou knowest that man?” 

The slave bowed in assent, and Hiljah’s 
eyes gleamed dangerously. 

[41] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“What he hath told to me is of much con¬ 
sequence. See that his lips are sealed!” 

The Nubian understood perfectly and 
hurried away to do his bidding, while Hil- 
jah passed along to the main staircase and 
ascended to the King’s apartments. 

Almost immediately he was ushered into 
Pharaoh’s presence, and the King received 
him with impatience. Pharaoh was reclin¬ 
ing on a couch by the balcony, a scroll lying 
neglected on his knees. Behind, a huge 
slave was fanning him, his eyes closed and 
his arms working like an automaton’s. 

“Well, Hiljah?” Pharaoh betrayed a lit¬ 
tle of the impatience he felt to know the re¬ 
port of the happenings at the secret meet¬ 
ing of the dangerous priests of the defaced 
Amon. “Hath thy slave returned?” 

Hiljah the dignified knew how to be re¬ 
spectful, and even fawning, in the presence 
of the King. 


[42] 



The Secret Chamber 


“Even so, O Egypt. There is nothing to 
report.” 

Pharaoh waved his arm, as though the 
news was entirely what he had expected. 

“This evil talk of the Queen having con¬ 
nection with Rah Neb and his followers— 
it is false?” 

The Counselor lied easily. 

“Those who cast the cloud of suspicion 
upon the fairest of all fair women, O Royal 
Egypt, spoke with lying tongues.” 

Pharaoh seemed distinctly relieved. 

“Then those who uttered such words shall 
pay for them. Thou shalt see to that for 
me.” 

The Counselor nodded, as he took his 
leave. It would give him the greatest pos¬ 
sible pleasure to attend to such a little mat¬ 
ter as that. 

Outside, in the spacious corridors, he 
paused, and caressed his chin reflectively. 

[433 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Thus is Pharaoh soothed. My plans 
mature with comfortable speed. Now . . . 
I will seek audience with the Queen.” 

And, with a cunning smile, Hiljah passed 
on his way. 


[44] 



Ill 


THE WRATH OF PHARAOH 































Ill 


THE WRATH OF PHARAOH 

Q UEEN HEROTAH was resting 
in her own private apartments, at¬ 
tended only by her faithful con¬ 
fidante and chief attendant, the pretty 
Charmion. 

Pharaoh’s consort, clad in a loose robe 
of white and reclining on a vast divan sur¬ 
faced with a luxurious purple silk, was in¬ 
deed a woman to be envied for her beauty 
of face and form. There were many in the 
court who eyed her with sensuous gaze. 
Even the ladies were frankly admiring, and 
Hiljah, when he had spoken of this lovely 
child of Egypt as the fairest of all fair 
women, had spoken but the simple truth. 
Yet in one respect there was no more 

[47] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


mysterious figure in the whole court than 
Herotah, whom Pharaoh loved with blind, 
consuming passion and whose beauty was 
spread abroad as a proverb. 

Few knew, for instance, that in her earlier 
days she had been carried captive, with her 
sister, into Numidia, through the incursion 
of a hostile tribe; that here her sister had 
been rescued by a noble Egyptian, had 
loved him, married him and borne him a 
child. 

None but Herotah herself, she believed, 
knew how—when her sister and her husband 
had been killed during a desert raid—she 
had escaped with their child. After almost 
incredible suffering and hardship, they had 
at last returned to Egypt, where Herotah’s 
amazing beauty had brought her to the court 
of Akhnaton. In due course she had be¬ 
come his consort and reigned with him as 
queen of the great dominion of the East. 

But of her sister’s child, whom she had 

[48] 




The Wrath of Pharaoh 


sworn to protect, she had said nothing. 
Fearing for his life, she had placed him in 
the care of a faithful slave. He was a beau¬ 
teous boy. His name was Tut-tut and the 
blood of nobility coursed through his veins. 
The secret of his birth had been well kept 
in the Queen’s breast; yet, this day, she had 
given this secret to another. 

She had never loved the dark and malig¬ 
nant Pharaoh. Further, she was a devout 
worshiper at the shrine of Amon and, when 
her husband had defaced the god and estab¬ 
lished Aton as the prevailing deity, Hero- 
tah had sworn secret allegiance to the cause 
of Amon. 

“There shall come another king out of 
obscurity,” old Rah Neb had said. This 
day, in the secret chamber under the temple 
of Karnak, the High Priest and his follow¬ 
ers had awaited a revelation which it had 
been in the hands of Herotah to bring. 

A new king! Was not this child, whom 

[49] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


she loved, a son of the nobility? Might he 
not be set apart to uphold the cause of 
Amon, to wrest the throne from the heretic 
Akhnaton, and, as the succeeding king, to 
reestablish the deposed deity? 

But an hour since, she had left the palace 
secretly, taking with her the young boy, 
Tut-tut, and bearing the papyrus which 
proved his birth and parentage. She had 
given him into the charge of Rah Neb, 
High Priest of Amon, and with Rah Neb 
his destiny would be assured. 

“There shall come another king . . .” 

In the quiet of her chamber, she smiled 
as she thought of this lad, whom she loved 
as a mother, and in her thoughts she had 
placed him already upon the throne of 
Egypt, wrapped the royal robes about his 
shoulders, and placed in his hand the scep¬ 
ter which only a monarch might bear. 

Seated at the feet of her mistress, the 
pretty Charmion, who had been trusted with 

[So] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


the secret as the only one in the whole court 
whom Herotah could confide in, was wont 
to smile gently and caress the Queen’s fair 
hand. 

“Thou art dreaming, O One of So Great 
Beauty? Thou art thinking of . . 

Herotah frowned slightly and grasped 
her attendant’s arm. 

“Peace, child! Even the walls have ears 
in this palace. We must not speak ... we 
must not even think of him, lest our lips be¬ 
tray the tide of our minds. Hist! Some 
one approacheth! Go thou and see who it 
may be.” 

Charmion had already risen and moved 
to the doors. Some one without had 
knocked softly upon the panels, and the girl 
inquired who that one might be. 

“It is I,” the deep voice of Hiljah 
chanted, and Charmion, her cheeks a trifle 
pale, turned to her mistress. 

“Fair One, it is the High Counselor.” 

[so 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


The Queen had heard, and she was al¬ 
ready bracing herself for a meeting with 
the cunning, wily Nubian who stood so high 
in the favor of Akhnaton and whom, for 
this reason alone, she was bound to respect. 

She turned to her attendant with a little 
sigh. 

“It is well, Charmion. Open the doors. 
I am ready.” 

The girl did as she was bidden, and the 
portly, squat form of Hiljah entered. His 
features were contorted with something 
akin to a leer—something which Hiljah, 
however, intended to be regarded as a smile 
of great pleasure. 

“Ah,” he began, in his deep, suggestive 
voice, as he approached the Queen, “thou 
art in a fit and proper setting, fair Jewel of 
Egypt. Thy beauty dazzles me to-day. 
Thou dost well to rest, Herotah. Great 
beauty, such as thine, is needful of great 
study and attention.” 

[ 52 ] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


Herotah forced a chilly smile and bowed 
her graceful head slowly. 

“It is my custom to recline at ease at this 
time of the day, Counselor. It is well that 
I should remain at rest. What desirest thou 
of me?” 

Hiljah frowned slightly, but he gave no 
sign of annoyance at such a plain hint. He 
waved his hand condescendingly at Char- 
mion. 

“Leave us, girl. I would speak with thy 
mistress alone!” 

But Herotah had risen, anger illumin¬ 
ating her dark eyes. 

“Did I hear thee give an order to mine 
attendant, Counselor? I would have thee 
understand that such a word is for my lips 
alone. But as thou wilt!” she finished, with 
a despairing gesture, as she noted the severe 
lines about the Nubian’s lips. “Charmion, 
leave us. I will send for thee anon.” 

With a little bow, Charmion disappeared 

[ 53 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


through the thick curtains shrouding one 
of the balconies from view, and as her light 
footsteps died away Hiljah approached 
nearer to the Queen with a dangerous gleam 
in his eyes. 

“That is good, Sweet One. Wilt thou 
not be seated?” 

Herotah turned and lay back upon the 
divan, but her gaze caught that of the wily 
Counselor and she appeared to assume a 
casual air of indifference. 

“Thou hast set the stage to thy liking, 
Counselor. Proceed, I beg of thee, at 
once.” There was a chilly aloofness in her 
demeanor. “Only, I would ask that thou 
shouldst spare me such compliments as 
thou mightest think fit to pay to my beauty. 
I have heard them all before, Hiljah. 
What is thy mission?” 

Hiljah shrugged his shoulders, and came 
a little nearer. 

“There is ample time, Herotah. Are we 

[54] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


not alone, you and I?” His tone was sug¬ 
gestive, his smile openly sensuous. His gaze 
followed the lines of her figure, and came 
to rest upon her beautiful face. “Oh, thou 
art indeed so fair that none can approach 
thee for such perfection. Ah, it is indeed 
hard . . . the lot of him who must stand 
and admire . . . afar off . . 

Something in the Queen’s eyes checked 
him momentarily, and in that pause the 
woman rose. Her slender form seemed to 
rise above this stooping, crafty Nubian, but 
the grace of her movements only caused 
him to discard further the silky suggestive¬ 
ness in his manner and reveal his inner feel¬ 
ings. He came so near that Herotah could 
feel his hot breath upon her shoulder. 

“Herotah, I love thee!” he cried, openly 
a prey to great passion. “There have been 
nights when I could not sleep for thinking 
of thee. There have been days when the 
sight of thee hath dazzled mine eyes. Fair- 

[55] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


est flower in the garden of beauty, my pas¬ 
sion is too great. I cannot . . 

Herotah had drawn herself from his 
clutching, trembling grasp, and now, her 
beautiful lips compressed, she seemed un¬ 
able to voice her anger and indignation for 
want of words sufficient to express her burn¬ 
ing wrath. Hiljah had understood and 
stepped back a pace, ere she spoke. And 
then her voice was almost harsh, and her 
black, gleaming eyes held him under an ir¬ 
resistible spell of fascination and dumb¬ 
ness. 

“Thou!” she cried, as though addressing 
something utterly despicable. “What hath 
come upon thee? Is it for a slave to covet a 
monarch’s consort? Doth the poor, vile 
Hiljah dare to speak thus to Herotah, Queen 
of all Egypt! Ah,” her whole frame trem¬ 
bled under the power of her wrath, “thou 
makest me sick by thy voice and presence. 
Go! Thy master, Pharaoh, shall hear of 

[ 56 ] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


/ 


this. For this insult to my beauty, Coun¬ 
selor, thou shalt be cast from the palace ere 
the sun hath set. Thou shalt be spurned, 
and esteemed for what thou art indeed—a 
Nubian, of the same vile breed as the slaves 
who guard the doors but ten paces from 
where thou standest. Go, immediately, I 
say, or I will summon them hence and thou 
shalt not live to make thine excuses to thy 
master.” 

Under this torrent of wrath Hiljah had 
not moved. There was only to be noticed 
that the cunning leer upon his yellow fea¬ 
tures had intensified somewhat, and his eyes 
became almost hidden in the wrinkles above 
his cheek-bones. His answer was delivered 
almost in a whisper—yet, even so, the hiss¬ 
ing sound that came from between his lips 
struck fear into the heart of the Queen. 

“So?” he began, chafing his lean hands. 
“Is it thus? Wouldst thou insult the fa¬ 
vored servant of a Pharaoh . . . thou who 

[57] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


thyself art but a woman? Ah . . . it would 
be unwise of thee to give way in such a 
manner to thine anger, Herotah. I, too, 
have much to say to our King. I, too, have 
news of much interest for his ears.” 

The Queen recoiled, frightened and ut¬ 
terly taken aback, but she recovered almost 
instantly and faced the Nubian again. 

“Indeed, Counselor? And what is this 
that thou hast for the ears of Pharaoh?” 

But if Hiljah was so utterly calm, it was 
merely because in such a way his anger 
found expression. Herotah had offended 
the super-dignity of the Nubian, and his 
self-pride was even greater than his sensual 
passion at this moment. Only a scarcely 
perceptible trembling of the fingers gave 
indication of the torment that raged in his 
heart. 

Without a further word he turned and 
shuffled to the doors, his crooked form pass¬ 
ing out of vision, and the soft pad-pad of 

[58] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


his sandals dying away as he moved along 
the marble corridor. 

Herotah was almost on the verge of faint¬ 
ing, when Charmion returned. The girl 
rushed to her side immediately and aided 
her to the divan. 

“O Beloved! What ails thee, Fair One?” 

Cooling her fevered brow with a cold 
hand and arm, the Queen sighed hopelessly. 

“It is nothing of account, my Charmion. 
Only it were better that thy mistress were 
dead than that she should endure the wrath 
of Pharaoh this night. Kiss me, child. 
Thou alone art my friend. I fear . . 

And then, with another sigh, the beauti¬ 
ful Queen sank deeper into the cushions, and 
the torment in her brain darkened into ob¬ 
livion. 

She had fainted. . . . 

• • • • • 

Meanwhile the High Counselor had 
passed again into the presence of Pharaoh. 

[ 59 ] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Akhnaton, used to these frequent visits, 
paid but little attention to the Nubian and 
regarded him with mild interest as the 
Counselor bowed slowly, requesting an im¬ 
mediate audience on business of great mo¬ 
ment. 

Akhnaton shrugged his shoulders indif¬ 
ferently and bade Hiljah be seated. 

“If thou must, then speak. Doth this 
further visit concern Rah Neb and his 
priests of the evil Amon, at the secret meet¬ 
ing this day?” 

The Counselor nodded. 

“It is much to my grief that I have to re¬ 
port again, and more correctly, on this mat¬ 
ter, O Egypt! The slave whom I sent 
proved false. His words were lies. I . . .” 

A deep frown furrowed the monarch’s 
brow. 

“Thou wast careless in thy choice, Hil¬ 
jah. What now?” 

“I have more reliable news, O One of 

[60] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


Wisdom. There was much of consequence, 
I now learn, at this secret meeting in the 
chamber under the temple of Karnak. Rah 
Neb and his evil companions have deep de¬ 
signs upon thy throne, O Egypt! Indeed, 
Great Master, there is one within their care 
whom they aspire to place upon the throne 
of Egypt!” 

Pharaoh had risen and Hiljah noted with 
satisfaction his master’s growing anger and 
surprise. 

“What?” stormed the King, his eyes blaz¬ 
ing. “Who, then, is this one whom these 
vermin nurture in their evil breasts? Dost 
thou mean that Rah Neb threateneth my 
royal person, seeketh to defy my imperial 
dominion and . . .” 

His indignation, even at the suggestion of 
such a plot, knew no bounds. He strode 
over to the Nubian and clutched his neck, 
pressing his fingers into the Counselor’s 
throat as though he would strangle him. 

[61] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Tell me, thou, what lieth behind thy 
words! Uncoil thy silky tongue, Hiljah, 
and speak! What knowest thou of this?” 

Hiljah could but gasp his answer, for 
Pharaoh was a strong man and his hands 
were powerful under the inspiration of his 
anger. 

“Master, I ... I know the whole of this 
story. Release thy servant, I beg of thee.” 

Pharaoh stepped back and thrust his 
counselor onto a footstool. 

“Now then, do thou hurry, or it will go 
poorly with thee!” 

Hiljah did not pause. Trembling from 
head to foot he answered with discreet haste, 
yet retaining those facts which he did not 
think fit, in accordance with his own cun¬ 
ning plans, to reveal. 

“I have heard, O Egypt, that there is a 
boy whom one or other of his followers hath 
brought to Rah Neb. This boy is of noble 
birth, it seems, and the evil priest of Amon 

[62] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


hath made it known that this boy shall sit 
upon thy throne, that thou shalt fall be¬ 
neath the hand of this young upstart, and 
that, when the time is ripe, he shall con¬ 
quer thy kingdom, O Egypt, rule in thy 
stead, restoring the name and the worship 
of the god Amon.” 

For a long time, Pharaoh seemed unable 
to speak. He commenced to pace the apart¬ 
ment heavily and then came to a sudden halt 
before the cringing form of Hiljah. 

“Listen to my words, slave! I, Pharaoh, 
speak! Go thou, at once, with a body of 
soldiers to the secret chamber beneath the 
temple of Karnak. When thou returnest to 
my palace, anon, see that thou bringest with 
thee Rah Neb, this vile youth and all the 
priests of Amon. Let not one escape thee. 
Go! There shall be a feast to-morrow, and 
Aton shall see the fall of those who have de¬ 
fied Pharaoh ... I who have said that 
Aton is the god of my country. ... I, 

[63] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Royal Egypt and ruler of the world! Go!” 
• •••'• 

It was almost evening when Hiljah re¬ 
turned to seek audience with the King. 
Pharaoh was awaiting him, and the Coun¬ 
selor approached and addressed his master 
with a peculiar hesitation. 

“Well, Counselor?” Pharaoh questioned 
impatiently. “Thou hast been?” 

Slowly the Nubian inclined his head. 

“Even so, O Royal Egypt!” 

“It is good. Thou hast done my will?” 

“We have taken many prisoners from 
among the priesthood of Amon, O Egypt. 
They lie in thy prisons, beneath the palace.” 

Pharaoh frowned irritably. 

“Thou hast Rah Neb and this boy also?” 

But Hiljah faltered, bowed his head and 
was silent. 

Akhnaton at first seemed puzzled and 
then, very slowly, his features became con¬ 
torted with unbridled rage. 

[64] 



The Wrath of Pharaoh 


“Speak, thou! What of Rah Neb and 
this youth?” 

With an effort, the Nubian met the 
King’s angry gaze and, in a voice that was 
little more than a whisper, he spoke the 
truth. 

“It was unfortunate, O Royal Egypt . . . 
Rah Neb was warned of our approach even 
as we came to his lair. . . . We were too 
late. . . . He and the boy . . . have 
gone!” 


[6S] 










IV 

THE SANDS OF TIME 










IV 


THE SANDS OF TIME 

P HARAOH’S wrath at the news of 
the escape of Rah Neb and his 
charge, the youth of mystery whom 
the worshipers of Amon aspired to place 
upon the throne of Egypt, knew no bounds. 
The fires of hatred in his heart against the 
former deity of Egypt, more desperate than 
ever as failure upon failure marked each 
day of his adherence to Aton, burned into a 
blazing fury that startled even the fanatical 
Saket, high priest of the new god, and in¬ 
stilled anticipative fear into the hearts of 
all the people. 

If Rah Neb had eluded him, if the old 
priest and his charge were safely hidden in 
the purple mists of the desert, at least his 

[69] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


priests should pay full toll for their leader’s 
freedom. 

Within and around the palace of Pha¬ 
raoh was held a mighty death-feast. The 
common people of the land were summoned 
to pay further tribute to the majesty of 
Aton, whose effigy was held aloft in exalta¬ 
tion, while the priests of Amon, who since 
their capture had lain in the dungeons of 
the palace, were slain before their eyes. 

In Pharaoh’s court the wine flowed freely 
and Egypt’s monarch celebrated in de¬ 
bauchery the downfall of the priesthood of 
Amon. While the bodies of the slain were 
held before the eyes of his subjects as a grim 
warning to all who nurtured within their 
hearts a love for the old worship, Akhnaton 
cried aloud to Aton. 

“But yesterday,” he boasted, before the 
assembled court, “there met within the pre¬ 
cincts of Karnak a hoard of vermin who, 
with high words and confident demeanor, 

[70] 



The Sands of Time 


paid homage to a weakling of a boy upon 
whose head they had already placed the 
name of a king. I . . . Pharaoh . . . was 
doomed!” His ironical laughter rang 
through the hall. “I . . . Egypt . . . was 
to be overthrown that this child . . . this 
stripling . . . might reign upon my throne. 

“To-day,” and now he spoke with all the 
dignity at his command, “to-day I, Pharaoh, 
have spoken. Without, the bodies of the 
priests of Amon are rotting in the noonday 
heat My people’s voices are raised with 
mine in worship of the god of the Sun. 
Where is this youth who aspired to reign in 
my stead? Where is this priest who 
dreamed, but yesterday, of another Pha¬ 
raoh? 

“Aton, to thy name be glory and majesty! 
To thee we offer in ’’sacrifice the lives of 
those who dared to defy thy power, and who 
rose to challenge my dominion. Thy foes 
are vanquished, thine enemies are slain. 

[70 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


To-morrow my soldiers shall seek the fugi¬ 
tives within the desert and, anon, their 
blood shall flow freely upon thine altar! 
Aton . . . Aton and Pharaoh, prevail! 
Hear, Egypt! Give ear unto the words of 
thy king! Aton! Aton and Pharaoh!” 

With a gesture of dignity he surveyed the 
assembled courtiers and, curving his lips 
into a mocking smile of triumph, he sank 
back onto the seat of his throne and called 
loudly for more wine. 

• • • • • 

And then it seemed as if the words of 
Pharaoh were words of truth indeed. 

The days passed into weeks, weeks into 
months, and months into years. Yet still 
Aton prevailed and Pharaoh’s dominion re¬ 
mained unchallenged. 

That day when Pharaoh’s soldiers had 
cleared the subterranean chambers under 
the temple of Karnak, Rah Neb and his 
charge had gone far into the purple distance 

[72] 



The Sands of Time 


of the desert, and the sands of time, blown 
by the winds of heaven, had made smooth 
the paths of their footsteps so that Pharaoh 
grew to forget, and Egypt worshiped in 
grudging and unwilling silence the deity of 
the Sun. 

The few priests of Amon who had es¬ 
caped the death-scythe of Akhnaton’s hosts 
were scattered, and the temple of Karnak 
slumbered in desolate silence while within 
its walls the effigy of Amon bore, as so much 
wood and stone, the dust of time and neg¬ 
lect. 

But if the armies of Pharaoh had searched 
in vain for the old High Priest and the boy, 
these two had journeyed far and, bearing 
without a murmur the burden of poverty 
and want, they came at last to a little cavern 
in the desert of Deir el Bahri, wherein dwelt 
a weird and mysterious woman-god, the 
dread leader of the Necromancers, famous 
in old Egypt for their power of casting 

[73] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


spells, of divination, crystal-gazing and 
magic. 

Her name was Sampi the Serpent- 
Woman, and she had once been the despair 
and terror of Pharaoh’s vast domain. 

Sampi was old and ugly. Her scant hair 
was a grayish-yellow and her eyes were 
made fearful by thin red veins that crept 
across the whites and cast a network of 
blood over the gleaming balls. 

Here, in the filthy cavern that was her 
home, her temple and her palace of mys¬ 
teries combined, Sampi received the old 
High Priest with a primitive, almost ani¬ 
mal eagerness, and to her Rah Neb confided 
the secret of the birth of the young lad 
whose destinies had been given into his 
hands. 

Sampi had no love in her heart for Pha¬ 
raoh. Indeed, a sullen hatred had matured 
in her breast against Akhnaton—a hatred 
that may have been unreasonable or just. 

[74] 



The Sands of Time 


Sampi never opened her heart to any but 
the unseen spirits to whom she muttered in- 
audibly night and day. 

Communing with her magic, the Serpent- 
Woman found great things in store for the 
boy who came with the old Rah Neb to 
seek sanctuary in her cavern. She pre¬ 
dicted, even as old Rah Neb had done, the 
fall of Pharaoh’s throne. One day the 
High Priest found her chuckling harshly 
on her stool, her bloodshot eyes fixed upon 
the crystal before her and her parched lips 
trembling under great emotion. 

“What is it thou seest, Sampi?” Rah Neb 
inquired, impressed by the mysterious force 
that held the old woman in its grip. 

Sampi laughed hoarsely and pointed a 
long-nailed finger at the crystal. 

“I see,” she croaked, “the figure of Akh- 
naton.” 

“Ah!” Rah Neb was all attention. “And 
seest thou him upon his throne?” 

[75] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Nay, I see him, rather, at the foot of 
his throne.” 

“The foot? How so? I do not under¬ 
stand thee.” 

Sampi turned to meet his gaze and her 
fingers seemed to be playing upon the air 
as the hands of a pianist manipulate the 
keys of his instrument. 

“I see our monarch at the foot of his 
throne,” she persisted with growing de¬ 
light. 

“Seated? Dost thou see him seated there 
upon the steps of his throne?” 

“Nay, he lieth upon the steps, Rah Neb. 
He lieth upon the steps of his throne. There 
is blood . . . blood . . . blood upon his 
face, and blood . . . blood . . . blood hath 
stained his royal robes, and blood . . . 
blood . . .” 

She burst into cackling laughter and her 
whole body trembled. 

“Dead!” she shrieked. “Pharaoh is dead. 

[76] 



The Sands of Time 


. . . I see it . . . the crystal is never false. 
It is the future . . . the future. Dead, I 
see him ... as dead and as cold as the mar¬ 
ble on which he lieth . . . dead!” 

She rose from her stool and went out of 
her cavern, cackling insanely. 

“Dead . . . dead . . . dead . . .” 

Her voice died away as she crept out 
across the sands, gleaming yellow in the sun, 
to commune with the silence of the desert. 

“Dead . . . dead . . .” 

In the shadows the charge of Rah Neb 
had watched, with an expression of deep 
fascination upon his handsome features. 
This youth was fast growing into early man¬ 
hood. His body was fast maturing, and 
within his heart was a firm conviction that 
one day he would sit, even as Rah Neb had 
predicted, upon the throne of Egypt. 

As Sampi went, he turned to the old High 
Priest with a puzzled frown upon his brow. 

“She speaketh strangely, O Father!” His 

[77] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


voice was strangely musical. “Doth the fu¬ 
ture indeed unfold itself to her gaze, even 
as she saith?” 

The old man nodded slowly and went over 
and placed his hands upon the youth’s 
strong shoulders. 

“Her eyes see far, my son. The words of 
Sampi are the words of truth. Thou didst 
hear?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Even so, my Father. Thou shalt not 
find me lacking.” 

And suddenly, from the sunlit distance, 
the shrill voice of Sampi was heard, as if to 
confirm the message of the crystal. 

“Dead! Dead! Dead!” 

• • • • • 

It was many days after when a rider came 
to Thebes from the desert and entered the 
palace with urgent news for Pharaoh. He 
was ushered into the presence of the mon¬ 
arch and, bowing low, he spoke. 

[78] 



The Sands of Time 


“O Egypt, thy servant hath fulfilled thy 
mission. Our search hath not been in vain. 
Nine days since, we passed a traveler whose 
journeying took him past the cavern where 
liveth Sampi, the Serpent-Woman and apos¬ 
tle of magic. With her, O King, reside two 
whose destinies will be of great interest to 
thee, O One of Wisdom. Rah Neb is one, 
and the other . . . this boy whom the priest 
aspires, even now, to place upon thy royal 
throne. Thy spies, O Egypt, looked well 
into this matter, and thy servant came im¬ 
mediately to acquaint thee with the tidings. 
Sampi, it is rumored, is secretly communi¬ 
cating with others who practise her wiles, 
and these are seeking to gather the scat¬ 
tered priesthood of Amon. 

“Is it thy wish, O Royal Master, that we 
should proceed at once to the cavern of the 
Serpent-Woman and bring the fugitives 
hence, so that thy judgment of wisdom may 
fall upon their heads?” 

[79] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Pharaoh was jubilant at the tidings, for 
while the fate of Rah Neb and the boy had 
remained a mystery, despite the price he had 
lately put upon their heads, there remained 
an uncomfortable fear within his heart—a 
half-felt, half-imagined dread lest the High 
Priest of Amon should still be plotting to 
undermine his prestige and attempt an up¬ 
heaval which might rob him of his throne. 

He bade the servant proceed to the pres¬ 
ence of Hiljah and repeat the news, so that 
his counselor might advise him on the mat¬ 
ter. Then, with a thrill of triumph, he 
made his way to the Queen’s apartments 
and acquainted his beautiful consort of 
what the messenger had said. 

Herotah bore the news with outward 
calm. Yet his words, so pleasantly, confi¬ 
dently uttered, sent shafts of icy fear into 
her heart, and her lips were cold as he em¬ 
braced her. 


[80] 



The Sands of Time 


Indeed, Pharaoh noticed the pallor of 
her waxen cheeks and drew back. 

“Fairest One,” he urged, “what aileth 
thee? Doth the heat of the day weary thee, 
Beloved? Surely . . . thou art not ill?” 

With a last effort to deceive, Herotah 
drew her husband closer to her breast and 
held him desperately the while her lifeless 
lips pressed kisses upon his brow. 

“Nay,” she pleaded, “ ’tis only the heat, 
Beloved. I am a little tired, but ’tis noth¬ 
ing of account. Leave me a while, I beg 
of thee. To-night thy consort shall gladden 
thy heart. See, if thou wilt, I will dance 
for thee ere the sun goeth down. Shall it 
be so, O Royal Master?” 

Completely deceived, Akhnaton smiled 
and, kissing her gently upon the cheek, pre¬ 
pared to leave. 

“This night the wine shall flow as it never 
flowed before, Fairest One. And to the 

[81] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


music of my heart, thou shalt dance for me. 
Indeed, with such news as I have but now 
received, ’tis the very night for dancing. 
Peace. I will spend an hour with my coun¬ 
selor, Beloved. Rest thee, and may the com¬ 
fortable solitude bring the flush of roses to 
thy soft cheeks, Herotah.” 

He bowed and passed into the spacious 
corridors. But even as the heavy curtains 
swung to behind him the Queen rose and, 
clenching and unclenching her hands in a 
fever of anguish, searched her brain for 
some means of saving the child and the 
priest whose whereabouts were now re¬ 
vealed to Pharaoh. 

“Ah,” she cried, “this is too much! My 
beloved child . . . whom I love as if it 
were my body which had given him birth 
. . . how can I save him from the wrath of 
the King? Is the cause of Amon lost? 
Nay, there must be a means . . . I . . .” 

She paused and, clapping her hands 

[82] 



The Sands of Time 


twice, gave a brief instruction to the slave 
who entered. 

“Go with haste and find Rana, my daugh¬ 
ter. ’Tis on urgent business that I would 
speak with her.” 

It was but a few moments ere the cur¬ 
tains swung back and a lovely girl, with the 
features and beauty of her mother, stood 
upon the threshold. 

Rana was the third and by far the fairest 
of all Herotah’s children. Frail as a lily, 
and as graceful, her eyes were as sparkling, 
her rich black tresses as silken and her 
figure as graceful as her mother’s. And the 
Queen loved her, too, beyond her sisters. 

Secretly she had instructed her daughter 
in the worship of Amon, and the girl was 
as devoted as Herotah to the religion of the 
former deity of Egypt. The love of the 
Queen was more than reciprocated in the 
heart of Rana, and to her had been un¬ 
folded the story of Rah Neb and the boy 

[83] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


who had been placed under his care, and 
Rana longed, with her mother, for the day 
that would see the upheaval which should 
spread from end to end of the country, the 
fire that should find fuel in every heart to 
burn with such fervor that the evil Akhna- 
ton and his officers should cringe before its 
fierceness and Egypt should see another 
king and a brighter era of peace and pros¬ 
perity under the worship of Amon. 

She regarded her mother questioningly, 
as she approached and embraced her ten¬ 
derly. 

“What is it, Royal Mother, that thou 
wouldst say to me? Art thou unwell? Thy 
dear cheeks are pale, and thy hands, Be¬ 
loved . . . how cold they feel to the 
touch!” 

But Herotah bade her daughter have no 
regard for such things. 

“It is nothing, Rana child, I am well. 
But listen. Thy father hath been here a 

[84] 



The Sands of Time 


moment since, with news that Rah Neb and 
the boy are hiding with Sampi, the Serpent- 
Woman. Ere the sun goeth down, this 
night, soldiers will have been dispatched 
to the cavern in the desert, and unless we 
can act, and that speedily, those whose safety 
we have at heart will pay the penalty and 
share the fate of the priests who, three years 
ago, were slain at the walls of the palace to 
the ...” 

Her breast heaved hysterically, but she 
mastered her emotions and proceeded des¬ 
perately. 

“My daughter, to thy hands I entrust this 
mission. Rah Neb and the boy must be 
warned at once. Thou, whom alone of my 
daughters I trust, must hasten to the cavern 
of Sampi and bring them news of the ap¬ 
proach of Pharaoh’s soldiers. They must 
fly, while there is yet time, to distant parts. 
Do thou bid Rah Neb depart with all haste 
and send word to me by thee whither they 

[8s] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


are bound. Rana, my Beloved, wilt thou 
go, that our sacred cause might be saved at 
thy hands?” 

With a little smile, Rana nodded and 
kissed her mother once again. 

“Rest in peace, O my Mother, it shall be 
done even as thou sayest. Thou knowest I 
would give my life for thee and our cause. 
Rah Neb shall be warned in time. And 
this youth ... it is long since he departed 
from Thebes. When I was a child I saw him 
often, did I not? Dost thou remember how 
we played together that day when thou 
didst take me to the house wherein the 
slave . . .” 

Herotah kissed her daughter fondly. 

“Rana child, thou must guard thy heart 
well. Thou wilt see him changed. Yea, 
almost a man now, and I would know of 
him, for I feel for him as a mother. Often, 
as a babe, I comforted him in danger, and 
at my breast . . .” 

[ 86 ] 



The Sands of Time 


She paused momentarily and a soft light 
came into her beautiful eyes. 

“Haste, my daughter. Let us waste no 
time with words. Charmion will attend to 
thy needs, and swift horses shall lead thy 
chariot to the cavern of Sampi.” 

A few brief words of farewell, fond kisses 
of affection . . . and Rana had passed out, 
leaving her mother reclining weakly on her 
couch. Herotah recalled again the grace 
and beauty of the boy she had led to the old 
Rah Neb on that fateful day, three years 
before. 

How would Rana find him now? In the 
years he would have grown almost into 
manhood. 

“Aye,” she mused, “it was sixteen years 
since my sister lay sick and we heard his in¬ 
fant cry for the first time. Ah, how lovely 
he was, this child. And now ... in a lit¬ 
tle while ... a man!” 

She thought of the childish wonder and 

[87] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


admiration that Rana had betrayed when 
she, then a mere child, had first seen the 
boy. 

“Aye, and why not? There is none more 
beautiful than she, and none more graceful, 
more loving. 

“A king he will be, when the time is ripe. 
A Pharaoh and ruler of all Egypt. The 
hearts of the people still rest upon the shrine 
of Amon. They worship Aton only with 
lips of fear. And when the lad comes into 
his own . . . when he sits upon the throne 
of Egypt ... he will want a consort wor¬ 
thy of his position. 

“Why not? They are both children of 
my heart. Do not beauty and beauty mate? 
Who more worthy . . . who more beauti¬ 
ful than . . .” 

Her lips became motionless and her 
lovely eyes closed slowly. But now there 
was a smile upon her cheeks, and the warmth 
was coming back to her lips and hands. 

[ 88 ] 



The Sands of Time 


Presently, with a dreamy gesture, she 
arose and steeled herself to play again the 
role of charmer and consort, to rekindle the 
light of passion in the eyes of the 
King. . . . 

“Charmion,” she called softly. “Come, 
child. The sun is setting . . . the day 
closeth . . . and Pharaoh will be awaiting 
his wife. I will dance, for him, the sensu¬ 
ous and the passionate. My heart is heavy, 
dear child, but the affections of Pharaoh 
are too precious to be despised.” 

“Aye,” she thought, with a tinge of sad¬ 
ness in her soul, “for Rana there is love and 
happiness. For me . . . the consort of 
Akhnaton . . . for me, there will be a 
role of deception and pretense. To play 
the part with aching heart, for a kiss . . . 
the kiss of Pharaoh!” 

• • • • • 

And secretly, from the shadows of the 
palace walls, there crept a chariot wherein 

[89] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


sat a beautiful girl, the daughter of a king. 

In a whirl of sand-dust the chariot swept 
across the desert and passed into the hazy 
distance to a destination where time and 
love and fate would play another hand in 
the game of hatred and passion, for a stake 
that was no less than the throne of Egypt 
and the name of a god. 


[90] 



V 


THE HOUR OF FATE 




V 


THE HOUR OF FATE 

I N the witching hour of midnight the 
sands of the desert were cold. On the 
horizon, where the edges of the earth 
communed with the purple and gray of the 
sky, distant sphinxes stood bleakly out as if 
to guard the sacred silences of the East. 

A little way from the cavern of Sampi 
were two for whom this picture of beauty 
was also a picture of life, in whose minds 
the sleeping sanctity of Egypt foretold a 
drama wherein they themselves would play 
the foremost parts. 

“It is night, my son,” Rah Neb, his hand 
caressing his silvery beard, murmured half- 
inaudibly, “and it is the night of Akhnaton. 
Soon, the horizon will be tipped with the 
flow of morning. A little while ... a few 

[933 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


more moons shall come and depart from the 
heavens, and then . . .” 

The youth at his side was standing notice¬ 
ably alert, and his eyes burned with a strange 
light. 

“Even so, my Father. The dawn will 
come, and with it, the true glory of Egypt. 
Yet ... it is a little hard, O One of Wis¬ 
dom, for me ... a lad who must needs 
flee from enemies he hath never known . . . 
to dream as thou dost, of a crown upon my 
head, a scepter in my hand and the royal 
robe of Egypt’s monarchs about my shoul¬ 
ders.” 

A tinge of sadness clouded the eyes of the 
old High Priest, but it passed even as a 
momentary doubt—and he turned to his 
companion with a smile. 

“It is given to Rah Neb, my son, to under¬ 
stand many things. Yet all that I have told 
thee is true. The future holds for thee a 
destiny as certain as the power of Amon. 

[94] 




The Hour of Fate 


There is only one god of Egypt. There is 
only one king for Egypt. That god, my 
son, is Amon. That king is to be thyself. 
Courage! Thy task is by no means light! 
But who, since the beginning of all things, 
hath reaped much for a frugal sowing? In 
this life, we conquer inasmuch as our hands 
have power to conquer. We dream, but our 
dreams do but bring us to a sad awakening 
if we have not the mind and the strength 
to secure those visions of our sleep. 

“So, my son, it is and shall be even with 
thee. Amon hath bestowed upon thee a 
destiny above all others. Guard thyself— 
take unto thyself courage. This ... is the 
night of Akhnaton. To-morrow shall be 
the dawn of a day wherein thou thyself shalt 
sit upon the throne of Egypt.” 

He paused, and the fire in his eyes died 
slowly. It was then that Sampi came from 
the shadow of the cavern and beckoned 
them with a lean finger, her shallow cheeks 

[95] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


burning with some great emotion, her lips 
trembling as if she had some message too 
great for her to speak. 

“Come, my children,” she piped ; “I have 
much to reveal unto you. The veil was 
drawn aside at midnight . . . the future 
lieth before us. Enter ... be swift . . . 
ere the shadows creep again and your eyes 
have not the power to see what passeth 
within. Hurry,” she chided, as Rah Neb 
and the youth moved slowly toward her, 
“. . . this is no time for leisure. Amon . . . 
Amon hath spoken but a moment since, 
and . . .” 

Rah Neb started, now all attention. 

“Thou sayest . . .?” 

But Sampi only chuckled faintly and led 
the way into the cavern. Rah Neb paused 
on the threshold and looked around him in¬ 
quiringly. 

But the youth had gone straight in after 
the old woman, and, as they awaited the 

[96] 



The Hour of Fate 


High Priest’s presence around the rough 
table on which rested Sampi’s crystal, Rah 
Neb stepped forward and took his place 
silently. 

For a very long time Sampi stared into 
the crystal, her eyes almost fierce and her 
yellow brow crinkled. Then slowly her 
eyes wandered to a corner of the cavern 
where the shadows were darkest, and as she 
peered at the rough rock walls the darkness 
was intensified. The eyes of Rah Neb and 
the youth seemed to be under the spell of 
some magic, mysterious force with which 
Sampi held communion. She did not look 
at her companions. Indeed, she seemed ig¬ 
norant of their existence, and, as she stared 
into the shadows, her lips mumbled inco¬ 
herent words, and before the gaze of the 
High Priest and the boy the walls seemed 
to fade into blackness and a majestic, won¬ 
derful scene formed in their place. 

• • • • • 


[97] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


It was a hall of blazing color and reck¬ 
less luxury, but there was only one to see 
it. . . . 

He rested upon his throne, the purple robe 
about him, his jeweled hands lying heed¬ 
lessly upon his lap. 

His head was bent under the weight of 
his crown. His features told a sorry tale of 
wild debauchery, his lips were parched and 
sometimes his nostrils quivered perceptibly. 

But his eyes . . . 

Within them was the tragedy of a score 
of years. Years of fanaticism, vice, cruelty, 
domination . . . years culminated by a 
dread despair that robbed his cunning brain 
of its power and lashed his soul into tor¬ 
ments of agonizing fear. 

Pharaoh . . . 

“Yes, it is thou ...” a mocking voice 
from out of nowhere burst into uncontrolla¬ 
ble laughter, though none but Pharaoh 
heard, . . yes, it is thou, and none other, 

[98] 



The Hour of Fate 


who hast come to this. Thy court is empty. 
Thy subjects are those who have tasted of 
thine own vintage, Akhnaton, and have 
come to this pass with thee! A monarch! 
Ho—thinkest thou that there is still a drop 
of royal blood within thy veins that hast not 
turned to bitterness by reason of this thing 
that thou hast done?” 

“Done?” the parched lips of the monarch 
trembled. He shifted uneasily upon his 
throne, and the nails of his fingers dug deep 
into the flesh of his palms. “What have I 
done? . . .” 

And the voice replied in a tone of such 
severity that Pharaoh cringed under the ac¬ 
cusation. 

“For the good of Egypt thou hast done 
naught. Yet for evil thou hast done all. 
For Aton—a fancy of thine own disordered 
brain—thou hast done all things, Pharaoh. 
Thou didst sow the seeds of famine, pesti¬ 
lence and despair. Thou didst open the 

[99] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


doors of thy kingdom to all the evil that was 
in the world. And now, under the burden 
of thy wrath, thou thyself shalt pay the price 
of thy misdeeds and shalt lie rejected at the 
altar of Egypt’s god.” 

The monarch moaned, and his eyes bulged 
from their sockets. 

“What . . . what sayest thou? Am I not 
. . . not a Pharaoh. Aton! Aton! Save 
me from my tormentors! Have I not wor¬ 
shiped . . .” 

And the mocking laugh rang out again 
and echoed shrilly through the palace hall, 
bearing upon its tide the final words of grim 
condemnation. 

“Stay! Thy cry is vain! Thou who hast 
conquered kingdoms . . . meet THY con¬ 
queror!” 

The draperies around the entrance were 
rent in twain, a great cry rose without and 
a handsome youth appeared. In his hand 
he carried a sword, and, running swiftly to 

[ioo] 



The Hour of Fate 


the steps of the throne, he plunged the shin¬ 
ing blade into the heart of the cowering 
monarch. 

Yet no blood came. The Pharaoh rose, 
his hands clawing the air, and his body fell 
lifeless onto the marble dais . . . 

• • • • • 

“Tarry!” 

In the cavern of Sampi, the youth had 
risen from his stool, and even as he shouted, 
the vision faded into blackness. He was 
panting under the strain of some great emo¬ 
tion, and he turned not to Sampi, but to the 
stooping form of old Rah Neb. 

“Father, what meaneth that?” 

The High Priest smiled quietly. 

“Sampi hath but revealed the future, my 
son.” 

“Yet . . . that sword that slaughtered 
Pharaoh . . . it was in my hand!” 

The High Priest nodded slowly. 

“It is even as I have told thee, my son.” 

[ioi] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


The lips of the youth were tense, his eyes 
blazing, but his voice became suddenly 
calm. 

“It is for me . . . that task . . . ?” 

“Even so,” Rah Neb said, in a firm tone, 
and the youth turned toward the entrance 
of the cavern. He was about to pass out 
into the desert when from the distance there 
came the thumping of horses’ feet and the 
thunder of chariot wheels. 

Rah Neb arose, his features blanched, and 
regarded the swaying form of Sampi. 

“Who cometh? It is not . . 

But ere he could continue, the chariot 
drew up at the entrance and a beautiful girl 
stepped down onto the sand. Immediately, 
and with unhesitating step, she passed to the 
entrance to the cavern, and, seeing her, the 
old High Priest sighed with deep relief and 
bowed in profound respect. 

Meanwhile the youth had stepped back 
a pace, astounded. This girl . . . who was 

[ 102] 



The Hour of Fate 


she? In all his life he had never seen a 
form or face so beautiful. Her eyes ex¬ 
plained, in their blackness, the sympathy of 
all the world. Her lips were like the petals 
of perfect roses. What queen was this who 
had come to such a place, within the silent 
sanctuary of the desert? 

But if the youth was dumfounded in his 
admiration, the girl had also some secret 
thrill within her fluttering heart. She met 
his gaze with a smile and came toward him 
slowly. 

“Thou . . . thou art he whom . . . ?” 

Before he could reply, Rah Neb had come 
forward and the girl, seeing him, bent down 
and kissed his tattered garments. 

“Father! It is indeed good to see that 
thou art safe! I have come in haste from 
the palace. Pharaoh Akhnaton hath learnt 
of thy hiding place and his soldiers come on 
foot to apprehend thee and thy . . . thy 
charge. My mother, the Queen, bade me 

[103] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


urge thee to hasten away, sending her word 
anon of whither thou goest.” 

Rah Neb did not seem in the very least 
surprised. He drew aside for a moment 
and appeared deep in thought. 

At this Rana arose and turned again to 
the youth. He seemed a little averse to her 
attention, and the frank admiration in her 
eyes put him to some discomfort. 

“I have seen thee,” she began softly, “and 
I have played with thee, as a child. Dost 
remember those days, thou who hast come 
to glorious manhood?” 

The youth nodded slowly. 

“Thou . . . thou art Rana, the daughter 
of Queen Herotah?” 

“It is so. Come, let us leave our father 
priest in thought. There is some time yet, 
ere thou dost need to depart. It was said 
that the soldiers of Pharaoh did not leave 
the palace at Thebes until night had fallen. 
Be that so, and they travel not so swiftly as 

[104] 



The Hour of Fate 


mine own chariot, there are hours to spare. 
Father,” and she turned to the old High 
Priest, “wouldst thou not rather be alone, 
for a space?” 

Rah Neb smiled. 

“I hear, my child, and understand. Go 
ye out for a while together, and may ye find 
what Amon shall provide.” 

Rana seemed puzzled. 

“How speakest thou of finding, Father?” 

But the old High Priest only shook his 
head, with a soft light in his eyes, and paced 
to his stool and sat down, his hands caress¬ 
ing his beard in his old, familiar attitude. 

Taking the girl’s hand in his own, the 
youth led the way out into the cool light of 
morning, and together they passed across 
the golden fields of solitude far from the 
cavern of Sampi the Serpent-Woman and 
all the grim mysteries that haunted the 
shadows therein. 


[io 5 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


It was evening when they returned and, 
a little way off, they paused and faced each 
other again. 

“Thou shalt be my queen,” the youth was 
saying, “and thou shalt find naught but hap¬ 
piness in the world and love in my heart, 
sweet Rana. To thee I shall be husband 
and lover. To me thou shalt be queen and 
wife. Is it not so?” 

Radiant and a little flushed, Rana was 
smiling, and the message in her eyes was for 
the sight of the youth alone. 

“It is even as thou sayest, Love. Thou 
shalt be a king among kings and ruler of all 
Egypt. Thy glory shall be known wher¬ 
ever men congregate, and thy scepter shall 
stand for goodness and wisdom. To me 
thou shalt be greater than the greatest and I 
will love thee, O my Heart, as never woman 
loved before.” 

“And thou knowest that it is for the good 

[106] 



The Hour of Fate 


of my country that I should aspire, O Rana, 
to such a high position? Thou knowest that 
I am indeed to become a king?” 

“It is true, my Love, because Amon hath 
ordained that such things shall come to pass. 
See, thou art already ruler of my heart! A 
little while, and thou must take thy place 
upon the throne of Egypt!” 

“And thou, my Queen, wilt rule with 
me?” 

“Even as thou lovest me,” she replied, 
and their arms were locked in the fond em¬ 
brace of youth to youth, love reigned in 
their hearts, and, under the purple sun of 
the desert, their lips met in a kiss of conse¬ 
cration, sanctity, and mutual, overwhelming 
affection. 

• • • • • 

Many days had passed, and Pharaoh and 
his court had assembled in the mighty tem¬ 
ple of Karnak. 


[107] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Akhnaton was seated on the throne and 
cried aloud as an endless stream of gifts was 
poured onto the altar of Aton. 

“See,” he shouted triumphantly, “it is 
even as Aton hath desired. The effigy of 
Aton is enthroned where once the figure of 
the false god stood. Amon hath gone, and 
even his temple and all its glories bask in 
the sun of Aton! Presently from the desert 
Rah Neb and this boy of his will pass for 
the last time beneath the pillars of Karnak. 
Joy, O Egypt, Aton is well pleased!” 

Before the effigy of Aton, newly erected, 
the High Priest received the gifts with 
beams of complete satisfaction in his eyes. 
Behind the throne of Pharaoh, the wily 
Hiljah nodded with evident approval; but 
all was not well with Herotah, Pharaoh’s 
queen, who reclined upon her couch to the 
right of the King. 

Rana, who had that day returned from 
the desert, was standing by her mother, a 

[108] 



The Hour of Fate 


look of intense pain in her eyes. Herotah 
was anxious, and, unable to stand the strain 
any longer, she looked up at her favorite 
daughter and bade her repeat the news she 
had brought from Rah Neb and his charge. 

“Whisper, child, but tell me once again 
that thou art sure! Is it so certain that the 
soldiers must return empty-handed?” 

Rana nodded. 

“Even so, Royal Mother. Thou mayest 
rest with comfort. Rah Neb and his charge 
are coming hence, but not with Pharaoh’s 
soldiers. A traveler from the north, in 
whose heart Amon reigneth, hath offered 
them assistance, and they hasten hence with 
him. Rah Neb will not fail, O Dearest 
One. He did bid me tell thee that but a 
few short days must pass ere Pharaoh is 
overthrown.” 

Half comforted, Herotah turned away 
with a faint smile and surveyed again the 
scene before them. Akhnaton, now wearied 

[109] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


of his utterances, had sunk into his seat and 
was beckoning her nearer. 

“Is it not good, Herotah, to see our tri¬ 
umph thus completed?” 

Herotah was always a consummate ac¬ 
tress, and her powers did not fail her now. 
She seemed to be overwhelmed with happi¬ 
ness, and her eyes, that regarded her hus¬ 
band, appeared to suggest profound adora¬ 
tion. 

“Thou art a mighty king, O Egypt!” she 
cried. “Aton is indeed the god of thy coun¬ 
try!” 

With a satisfied nod, Pharaoh turned 
hastily to his counselor. 

“Hiljah, do I not hear the tramp of feet? 
There is a captain of my guard at the door. 
Hasten to him, for I would have our pris¬ 
oners ushered in immediately. This sacri¬ 
fice must proceed with all speed.” 

With a low bow, Hiljah passed out to the 
armored figure at the entrance, and they 

[no] 



The Hour of Fate 


were for some moments engaged in earnest 
conversation. Then, with a very different 
countenance, Hiljah returned to the throne. 

“O Royal Master,” he began, uncertainly, 
“I fear the news which thy soldiers bring is 
not good.” 

Pharaoh rose, towering above the stoop¬ 
ing Counselor, and frowned. 

“What meanest thou? Hath one of these 
two escaped?” 

“They . . . they have both escaped,” 
Hiljah began with an effort; but Pharaoh 
would hear him no further. 

Trembling with rage, he thrust the Coun¬ 
selor aside, and, turning toward the assem¬ 
bled multitude, he raised his hand for si¬ 
lence. 

“Stay,” he thundered, “and hear me fur¬ 
ther! News hath come, my people, and 
those who brought it shall know the mean¬ 
ing of the wrath of Pharaoh against those 
who fail in his work. Rah Neb and this 

[in] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


youth have escaped! Once again our cap¬ 
tives have eluded us. Once again the desert 
hath cloaked them from the stern cause of 
justice!” 

Like magic, the whole temple was 
wrapped in silence. The worshipers stood 
open-mouthed. Only the Queen and her 
favorite daughter felt a thrill of relief in 
their hearts at the news. Pharaoh was the 
slave of his anger, and his eyes flamed with 
the fire of offended dignity. 

“There are those within my dungeons,” 
he continued, “whose lives were spared, 
even though their hearts harbored a love of 
the false deity. These . . . they shall be 
brought hither at once . . . and their blood 
shall flow upon the altar of Aton. Hear me, 
O my people, and obey! All who are as¬ 
sembled in this temple shall bow the knee 
at this moment before the effigy of Aton!” 

Slowly the multitude sank upon their 
knees as Pharaoh had commanded. Hero- 

[112] 



The Hour of Fate 


tah’s features were blanched and it seemed 
as if she would refuse; but, as Pharaoh’s 
burning gaze lighted upon her, she gave a 
little groan and prostrated herself before 
the altar. 

Then the eyes of the King surveyed the 
assembled multitude. Every head was 
bowed, every one had knelt. 

He turned and surveyed the chosen few 
who had been standing around the throne. 

There was one who had refused to kneel! 

Standing erect, a defiant light in her eyes, 
Rana had remained inert. Her gaze met 
that of her father with dignified refusal. 
Her cheeks were deathly pale and her lips 
trembled, but she did not hesitate. With a 
quiet smile, she spoke, evenly and without 
a trace of fear. 

“This thing I will not do, O my Father. 
My god is Amon, the god of Egypt. To 
him, and him alone, will I bow in adora¬ 
tion.” 


[113] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Pharaoh had stared as if fascinated by 
the daring of the girl, and his anger slowly 
turned into a cold sarcasm that suggested a 
rage too great for expression. 

“So,” he sneered, “one of my daughters 
dares to disobey? Think well, my child, ere 
thou art so sure of thy belief. The penalty 
of disobedience . . . is death!” 

Rana nodded quietly. 

“This thing is known to me, O Father!” 

“And thou holdest fast to thy god, know¬ 
ing this thing?” 

“Amon is my god. Him only will I wor¬ 
ship.” 

“Even if such be death, my daughter?” 

“Even unto death, my Father! Not all 
the power in Egypt can tear his image from 
my heart.” 

Pharaoh gazed a moment longer and 
then, his features contorted, he turned to the 
grinning Hiljah. 

“It shall be death, then, Counselor. My 
daughter shall be burned alive!” 

[”4i 



VI 

THE BEGINNING AND THE END 


I 



















Vi 

THE BEGINNING AND THE END 

S OME little distance from the majes¬ 
tic temple of Karnak at Thebes there 
was a tavern of modest exterior 
which, however, represented the sole means 
by which the traveler could obtain tempo¬ 
rary accommodation in the town. 

To its doors came all and sundry. The 
stranger from distant parts of Egypt found 
sanctuary there for a reasonable expendi¬ 
ture. The mysterious visitor whose business 
was best known to himself could rest there 
without the inconvenience of having either 
to present his credentials or to answer any 
other questions than those to which he chose 
to reply. 

Truly a rendezvous of reputation was the 

[ii 7] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Tavern of Sampi, named after the mysteri¬ 
ous leader of the Necromancers with whose 
character and residence the reader is already 
familiar. 

It was perhaps significant that two mys¬ 
terious figures should one day come in from 
the desert—an old man and his son, who 
assisted his father in carpentry—and take 
up their residence at this tavern to the rear 
of the Karnak pile. Significant because the 
old man was none other than the venerable 
Rah Neb, one-time High Priest of Amon, 
and the boy was none other than the youth 
whom Rah Neb aspired to place upon the 
throne of Egypt. How soon that dream was 
to be put to the test of material force will 
soon be seen. 

They came in unnoticed through the 
creaking door, which made way for shafts 
of burning sunlight as they opened it. Sev¬ 
eral men of humble station casually raised 
their glances and, having found nothing of 

[n8] 




The Beginning and the End 


unusual interest in the newcomers, went on 
with their conversation. 

The proprietor of the tavern, however, 
hastened forward to greet the pair, the pros¬ 
pect of additional guests bringing the light 
of greed into his crafty old eyes. Gabinius 
was a stooping, soft-spoken man whose na¬ 
ture only asserted itself when any of his pa¬ 
trons failed to meet their financial obliga¬ 
tions to him. Otherwise—if one paid for 
what one received—there was none more 
courteous, more considerate, and more con¬ 
siderately blind than he. 

He saw, with a feeling akin to disappoint¬ 
ment, that the newcomers were by no means 
well clad. The old man’s robes, indeed, 
were obviously the worse for wear. As for 
the youth, his soiled shirt displayed his 
strong figure to advantage, but it was a 
very dilapidated shirt, nevertheless, and 
torn in many places. 

Therefore, Gabinius was not over-cour- 

[119] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


teous. With a grudging bow, he ap¬ 
proached the old man and asked what were 
his requirements. 

“A room,” Rah Neb answered, in a re¬ 
flective tone. “Two modest couches where 
we may pass the night, when our business 
in this place is done for the day, and a good 
meal for us both with haste.” 

Gabinius sighed. He was in, it seemed, 
for an argument over the payment which 
he should receive for what he had to offer. 

“Wilt thou follow me?” he requested, 
veiling the interrogative as much as civility 
allowed, as he led the way through a cur¬ 
tained archway at the rear of the room, and 
into an apartment which was clearly his 
own. 

Motioning his companions to stools, he 
seated himself before them and coughed 
delicately, his eyes never leaving the fea¬ 
tures of the old man. 

Gabinius was puzzled. Used as he was 

[l20] 



The Beginning and the End 


to entertaining rich men in the humble garb 
of itinerants, these two baffled him. The 
old man was clearly no wealthy merchant 
seeking refuge from some one whom he had 
recently swindled over a deal in material. 
Neither was he, thought the proprietor, of 
the humble classes. His features were 
wrinkled and parched, but they suggested 
intellect and a certain power of com¬ 
pelling which a shrewd judge of human 
nature such as Gabinius could not fail to 
notice. His silvery beard was cleverly— 
Gabinius used the word deliberately as he 
pursued his train of reflective thoughts— 
and thoroughly unkempt. But his forehead 
was a little too thoroughly brown and dirty. 
There was, too, that something in his eyes 
which warned the tavern proprietor to be 
slow before coming to any definite decision. 

He was a cautious man, moreover, this 
Gabinius. He allowed his gaze to wander 
from the old man to the youth at his side. 

[I2l] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Almost a man,” he thought, “and this 
lad is no pauper. His limbs are so ... so 
. . . well, there is a deal of aristocracy in 
this youth. His parents came not from the 
common herd, if the eyes of Gabinius do not 
deceive him. For such beauty as this, in 
her sex, a woman might claim the favors of 
a monarch. His eyes are blue as the sky 
that crowns the desert beyond the city. His 
skin is as smooth as the silk of a gown of a 
queen. Nay, this is no son of a carpenter. 
In truth, I wonder . . .” 

And Gabinius gazed again at the old man, 
babbling meaningless formalities with his 
thin lips. 

“Ye are welcome, strangers, to this hum¬ 
ble tavern. We can offer only the humblest 
fare, but our hearts are good. At thy word, 
friend, the best chamber of this house shall 
be placed at thy disposal.” 

“ ’Tis good of thee, Gabinius; yet our 
needs are few.” 


[122] 



The Beginning and the End 


\ 

The little proprietor frowned, genuinely 
puzzled. 

“Hast thou honored my tavern before 
this day, O Stranger, that thou knowest the 
humble name of Gabinius?” 

“Yea,” Rah Neb nodded, speaking in a 
firm but low voice. “Thou art well known 
to me. Dost thou remember the day of evil 
when Pharaoh Akhnaton did depose the 
only true god of Egypt for a deity, so-called, 
that . . .” 

Gabinius started, his eyes bulging and 
fear in his heart. 

“Thou . . . thou speakest strange and 
daring words. What emotion inspireth thee 
to mention that which Pharaoh decreed 
shall linger upon the lips of no man? Art 
thou sent hither to discover whether the 
honest Gabinius harbors a love of Amon in 
his heart? If ’tis so, then I would . . .” 

Rah Neb smiled again and raised a quiet, 
forbidding hand. 

[123] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Gabinius, thou talkest needlessly. Thou 
fearest foolishly. Rest thy heart in peace. 
I am no spy of the King. I come hither to 
abide within thy walls and to meet those 
whose faces I have not seen for many days. 
But first, I would have words with thee. 
How do the people of Thebes take, then, to 
this new worship? Tell me that, and I will 
tell thee many things, too.” 

Gabinius was still far from being con¬ 
vinced. His gaze became keener, and he 
chose his words with infinite care. 

“Thou askest much, O Stranger, and I 
feel not the inspiration to treason against 
our King. Who art thou who comest thus 
to entrap the feet of Gabinius? What dost 
thou need? Tell me what thou knowest, 
and thou shalt shelter in this house with 
ease, and thy fare shall cost thee nothing. 
That will show . . .” 

But again the old Rah Neb shook his 
head. 


[124] 



I 


The Beginning and the End 


x ------—-- 

“Nay, my friend, thou art far from the 
truth, even yet. Thou, whose eyes were re¬ 
puted the keenest, whose judgment was 
reckoned beyond reproach . . . what hast 
thou come to, then, that thou knowest me 
not?” 

He came closer to the proprietor and met 
his gaze evenly, placing his hands upon the 
other’s shoulders, yet saying nothing. The 
two men regarded each other for a long time 
and gradually the light of recognition crept 
into the eyes of Gabinius. 

“Knowest thou me?” the High Priest in¬ 
quired again, with great solemnity in his 
manner. He might have been standing at 
the foot of the altar of Amon, blessing one 
newly brought to the faith. “Knowest 
thou me?” 

Childlike simplicity had grown into the 
features of the proprietor. His lips parted 
and when he spoke his voice was an awed, 
reverent whisper. 

[125] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Father in god, though the sun fadeth 
and the light of day be as the darkness of 
night, though the warmth of the sun passeth 
into the chill of winter, though the golden 
splendor of the moon leaveth the sky of 
Egypt and though men be as children newly 
born, devoid of speech and sight . . . even 
to thee will Egypt bow, to thee to whom the 
people of this country are looking for their 
salvation. Father, speak, and thy servant 
shall do thy bidding. The hearts of our 
people burn with the fire of hate for Pha¬ 
raoh and his Aton whom he setteth upon the 
sacred throne of Amon. Yet who, Reverend 
Father, is this youth whom thou hast 
brought unto this house?” 

Rah Neb swept back and regarded the 
lad who stood, wonderingly, behind. 

“Gabinius,” he commanded, sternly, “bow 
thy knees. This youth whom thou seest shall 
ere to-morrow’s sun hath set, be thy king!” 


[126] 



The Beginning and the End 

.i . . 

That night a curious company assembled 
in a secret chamber under the tavern of 
Sampi. 

Rah Neb and the youth were there, and 
at their side sat El Caleb, a devout wor¬ 
shiper of Amon and one-time famous war¬ 
rior and statesman. There were others, too, 
who had once held positions of high au¬ 
thority in Egypt, though now they passed 
their days in secret places of the city, ven¬ 
turing out only at night when the spies of 
Pharaoh could not see their features plainly 
and when most men were upon their couches 
and asleep. 

But for love of the deposed god Amon, 
these might have sought refuge and safety 
beyond the walls of Thebes. Yet they 
stayed within the lair of their enemies with 
one great purpose in their hearts, consumed 
with an overwhelming hatred against Akh- 
naton and willing to sacrifice life itself that 
the cause of Amon might be sped. 

[127] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Most of them had been officials in the 
temple of Karnak, but some were merchants 
who had refused, under penalty of death, 
to bow the knee to the god of their king. 

They were seated around the three lead¬ 
ers, Rah Neb, El Caleb and the youth, with 
Gabinius on guard at the door and a dozen 
watchful eyes in the tavern room above, 
waiting patiently for Rah Neb to speak. 
The old High Priest seemed deep in 
thought. Sometimes he would turn and re¬ 
gard the youth at his side with an intent¬ 
ness that puzzled the boy. Sometimes, 
again, he would regard the massive figure 
of the dignified El Caleb, while at others 
he would fix his gaze upon some point in 
the chamber, and eventually his eyes would 
close and he would appear to be asleep. 

But at last his train of thought seemed to 
reach an end. He conversed with El Caleb 
in low tones, scrutinized each of the assem¬ 
bled men before him and, raising his right 

[128] 



'v 

The Beginning and the End 

hand aloft to command—though it was 
needless to command—attention, he rose. 
His deep voice was saturated with convic¬ 
tion, and his eyes seemed to nurture a new 
light which grew into a burning flame of 
passion as he proceeded. 

“Brethren,” he began, folding his arms 
upon his chest, “ye are aware of what hath 
passed in Egypt these dread years, since 
Amon was banished from the temple of 
Karnak. Ye know that famine and pesti¬ 
lence have ravished the land, and that Aton, 
the new fancy of Akhnaton, hath brought 
but misery and tribulation to our people.” 

He paused and regarded the nodding 
heads of his audience. 

“Ye know, too, that I, thy leader, passed 
from Thebes into the desert distances. 
Where I went, ye knew not. But your faith 
required no explanation of my departure. 
Ye did labor as true and faithful servants 
of our god, whose high priest am I, and the 

[129] 






The Kiss of Pharaoh 


fruits of your hands are many. It is with 
a grateful heart that I learn of what ye have 
done in my absence. Ye have nurtured the 
true faith so that, this day, the flame of 
Amon lives as surely as ever, though se¬ 
cretly, in the hearts of the people of 

Egypt- 

“Such was your task. Ye have fulfilled it 
well. Thebes is ready to arise and to work 
out her own salvation; and what Thebes 
doeth, Egypt will do. 

“But ye know that Egypt must have a 
king, when Akhnaton hath bitten the dust, 
and when his destinies are ended at our 
hands. Our people must be ruled wisely, 
and their monarch must be of great wis¬ 
dom, as well as of the purest royal blood. 
He must be such a man as shall find both 
happiness and peace for his subjects, and he 
must reign not only upon the throne of 
Egypt, but also in the heart of Egypt/’ 

Again he surveyed the nodding heads of 

[130] 



The Beginning and the End 


his hearers, and at length proceeded in a 
louder tone. 

“Amon hath provided that king who shall 
reign over us, and our monarch is here.” 
He beckoned the youth, who drew himself 
up to his full height and came forward to 
the old man. “When last we met in the 
secret chamber under the temple of Kar- 
nak,” Rah Neb went on, “our good Queen 
Herotah brought unto me a boy. She gave 
me also a papyrus which gave proof of the 
birth of that child which she brought and, 
having read, I knew that the words of Amon 
were to be fulfilled with greater speed than 
we dared to hope. That boy was of royal 
blood. I took him unto my heart, brethren, 
and for his sake I left Thebes behind me 
and ventured far into the desert. In the 
cavern of Sampi I and the boy found refuge, 
and there it was I spoke to the growing lad 
of the great destiny that was his. I in¬ 
structed him in such accomplishments as 

[13 1 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


become a monarch of Egypt and he, this 
youth, my brethren, was an apt and willing 
pupil. And surely as I taught, so did Amon 
light the fires of truth and righteousness in 
the soul of this lad. 

“A few days since we fled from the tavern 
of Sampi and turned our footsteps toward 
Thebes. This very noonday we came to the 
house of the good Gabinius and it was he 
who called you together, this night, to hear 
what news we brought. Our task is finished 
and to-morrow the torch shall be lighted. 

“But here, within my robe, is the papyrus 
which shall satisfy you as to the high birth 
of this youth.” 

He drew a parchment from within his 
robe and passed it to the nearest member of 
the company. This man perused each line 
of the script with great care, and so it 
passed from one to another of those assem¬ 
bled, until all had read. 

“Ye have read,” Rah Neb began, when 

[132] 



The Beginning and the End 


he had again received the papyrus. “Are 
ye satisfied?” 

“Yes,” cried all, without hesitation, and 
immediately each one fell upon his knees 
before the youth, Rah Neb alone remaining 
upon his feet. Slowly the old High Priest 
turned toward the youth and rested his 
hands lightly upon his shoulders. 

“Thou seest thine inheritance, my son. 
Thou knowest what is required of thee? 
To-morrow . . . thou shalt be a king, and 
thou shalt sit upon the throne of Egypt and 
rule thy people with wisdom and judg¬ 
ment.” 

At this the company arose and raised 
their hands aloft. 

“All hail! All hail! All hail!” 

Rah Neb smiled proudly. 

“Even so, my brethren. Thy king shall be 
called Tutankhamen, and to-morrow ye 
shall raise the effigy of Amon before his 
royal throne!” 

[133] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


But, suddenly, there was an interruption. 
The door of the chamber opened and a man 
rushed in. He made his way straight to the 
old High Priest and, after a low bow, spoke 
in an emotional voice, a wild look in his 
eyes. 

“Father, I bear bad news! This day in 
the temple of Karnak, Pharaoh bade all as¬ 
sembled to bow the knee before the false 
shrine of Aton, because of his rage at 
the failure of his soldiers to bring thee 
back, with thy charge, as captive. All 
bowed before Aton, O Father, but one. 
She . . .” 

Up to now the youth had uttered no single 
word. But as the messenger paused nerv¬ 
ously, he sprang forward and clutched at 
the man’s arm. 

“What sayest thou? Who was she who 
refused to bow the knee in the temple?” 

The messenger regarded the youth with 
amazement. He had not heard what had 

[ 1 34] 




The Beginning and the End 


passed within that chamber, and the author¬ 
ity with which Tutankhamen had spoken 
somewhat bewildered him, in the presence 
of the High Priest. 

But Rah Neb interposed. 

“Speak, my son. Tell us her name. Was 
she one of Pharaoh’s household?” 

“Even so, O Father.” 

“And her name? Was it Herotah, Pha¬ 
raoh’s queen?” 

The messenger shook his head, slowly. 

“Nay, Father, she was the daughter of 
Akhnaton and the favored daughter of 
Herotah. Rana was her name, and ... it 
is decreed that at the rising of the sun, to¬ 
morrow, she shall be burned as a sacrifice 
to Aton.” 

The eyes of Tutankhamen were blazing. 
He could scarcely control his anger. 
Thrusting the messenger aside, he turned 
and faced the assembled company. His 
voice rose above the hum of subdued con- 

[135] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


versation like thunder and echoed through 
every corner of the chamber. 

“Brethren,” he shouted, in the manner of 
a king who brooks no argument, “if I am to 
be thy king, Rana is to be thy queen. It is 
she I love, and to me is she betrothed. 
Speed ye to the houses of your friends and 
let the hosts of Amon assemble this night 
before the walls of Pharaoh’s palace. It 
has been said that the torch of truth shall be 
flamed to-morrow. I, Tutankhamen, say 
that it shall be to-night! Hasten to do my 
bidding, I beseech you, in the name of 
Amon. To-night the prestige and power of 
Akhnaton shall be overthrown. To-night 
Egypt shall rise. To-night Thebes shall 
strike the first blow for freedom, and ere 
many moons have passed, all Egypt shall 
worship once again at the shrine of Amon. 
Hear ye?” 

“Yes,” answered all, “we hear the words 
of our king!” 


[136] 



The Beginning and the End 


“And ye will obey?” 

“Yea,” the cry arose from a score of 
throats. “The words of our king are words 
of command! It shall be, O Egypt, even 
as thou sayest!” 

And then all eyes were turned on the mo¬ 
tionless figure of Rah Neb. He seemed, in 
a moment, to have aged. The light had 
gone out of his eyes and he seemed to sink 
under the strain of some invisible force. 

He spoke only in a whisper, but in the 
tense silence there was none who did not 
hear. 

“It is well,” he said, swaying slightly to 
the right and left. “Amon hath chosen well. 
But I ... I weary of this fight. The bur¬ 
den of leadership hath passed into younger 
and more worthy hands. It is not given 
unto me, in the wisdom of Amon, to see that 
for which I have labored. But it is well. 
. . . Amon is all wise, all wonderful. Mine 
eyes are heavy, but my heart is glad.” 

[137] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


He turned and smiled fondly at the figure 
of Tutankhamen. “My son, thy day hath 
come. The glory of Egypt resteth in thy 
hands. Guard well the sacred charges 
which Amon hath given thee. The night of 
Akhnaton hath passed. This . . . this is 
the dawn. But the sun is setting upon my 
life. My spirit hath passed into thine own 
breast, and there it is the fire of truth shall 
burn. Even so . . . even so . . . take up 
thy scepter . . . rule thy people. . . . 
Amon, Amon is god! Tutankhamen is 
king. . . . Tutankhamen is king. . . . 
Amon is god! }} 

His breast heaved and subsided. His eyes 
flashed, and their light went suddenly out. 
He swayed, and as the youth rushed for- 
ward, the old man fell back into his arms. 

“Kiss me, my son . . .” 

Tutankhamen bent down his head and his 
lips touched the forehead of Rah Neb. 

But the old High Priest did not know the 

[138] 



The Beginning and the End 


feeling, the love, that the youth had ex¬ 
pressed in that last, fond embrace. 

Tutankhamen had lost a father. Rah 
Neb had passed into the purple distance of 
that desert from which there is no coming 
back. 


[139] 
























VII 


THE SWORD OF DESTINY 







































VII 


THE SWORD OF DESTINY 

t 

I N the court of Pharaoh the atmosphere 
was tense. The courtiers passed 
through the marble halls and corri¬ 
dors with bared heads and silent step, speak¬ 
ing to one another only when it was neces¬ 
sary and eying each other with meaning 
glances that reflected a cold dread within 
their hearts. 

Akhnaton, in a frenzy of fanatical zeal 
and anger, had seen fit to pluck from the 
bosom of Herotah and from the heart of his 
court a favorite and beautiful flower—none 
other than his daughter Rana. Upon her 
head he had cast the vengeance of Aton, and 
now she lay in the cold dungeon beneath the 
palace, awaiting the execution of the pen¬ 
alty of disloyalty to that deity whose name 

[143] 


If he Kiss of Pharaoh 


had been forced to the highest pinnacles of 
sanctity by the zeal of Pharaoh and his 
High Priest. 

With a callous, fanatical delight, Pharaoh 
completed his preparations for the vast 
spectacle to be set in the temple of Karnak. 
Rana’s fair body should wither in flames of 
fire before the altar of Aton! 

Around the temple, meanwhile, an even 
greater tragedy would be enacted; for, be¬ 
yond the gates, five thousand captives were 
to be burned alive and to suffer even as the 
royal Rana was to suffer. 

In his palace Akhnaton passed his time 
surrounded by his favored courtiers, at¬ 
tended by the wily Hiljah, and delighting 
in the cunning suggestions for additional 
atrocities which might be included in the 
program for the mighty death feast in the 
Karnak pile—suggestions coming from the 
lips of some of the more unscrupulous of his 
advisers. 


[144] 



The Sword of Destiny 


Below, in the foul air of her dungeon, 
Rana reclined on a rough wooden couch, 
striving courageously to maintain the fire 
of the faith that burned within her. Her 
eyes were stained with tears of anguish, her 
lips were parched and trembling, and it 
seemed as though the fevered hammering of 
her heart would surely beat down the frail 
encasement of her breast. 

Her eyes found for her but grim shadows 
within that bare apartment that was her 
prison, yet her thoughts were centered not 
upon her impending fate but upon him 
whose destiny embraced the throne of 
Egypt, whose love for her answered her 
own affection for him, and whose well-be¬ 
ing was her greatest, indeed her only, con¬ 
cern. Her mind went out from the magnifi¬ 
cence of Pharaoh’s palace into the mist- 
clouds of the desert, across the sandy waste 
and far away to where, but a short while 
since, she had stood with him who was now 

[145] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Tutankhamen. She recalled the deep emo¬ 
tion that had gladdened her heart, as this 
handsome young lover had made his vow of 
love. 

“Rana,” he had said, “I love thee. To 
thee shall my life be dedicated from this 
day. Towards thy happiness shall be all 
the labors of my hands, and, when thou 
needest me, I shall be ever at thy side. Re¬ 
member these things, O Fairest One, and 
know that whilst I live, no hands shall harm 
thee, no clouds shall cross the sky of thy 
happiness, and naught but love shalt thou 
know.” 

Her breast heaved and subsided as she 
thought of these things. Where was her 
lover now? Could some evil fate have be¬ 
fallen him, even upon the eve of his tri¬ 
umph? Had the soldiers of Pharaoh suc¬ 
ceeded in their search of Thebes, after the 
wrath of Pharaoh had turned them again 

[i 4 6] 



The Sword of Destiny 


to the heels of the mysterious Rah Neb 
and his charge? 

Suddenly her train of thought was inter¬ 
rupted. The key of the gaoler grated in the 
rusty lock of the door and the wood swung 
back on its hinges slowly. A short, portly 
slave entered, roughly clad in a shirt that 
had once been white, and bowed low before 
the girl. 

He spoke in little more than a whisper, 
for Rana was dear to the hearts of the low¬ 
est in the palace of Pharaoh, as well as to 
the highest, and, apart from this affection, 
her high position demanded something 
more than respect, even in such a place of 
horror as the dungeon which only those 
who had fallen from the favor of their mon¬ 
arch entered. 

“Fair One,” the slave whispered, “th*y 
slave bringeth good news to thee. The 
Queen, thy royal mother, waiteth without.” 

The dark eyes of Rana lighted, lustrous 

[i47] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


as rubies in that gloomy chamber, and a 
smile came slowly to her soft lips. A mo¬ 
ment, and Herotah had entered, her dress 
rustling as she passed quickly through the 
doorway. With a curt wave of her arm, 
she dismissed the slave. The door swung 
to behind her and the women were alone to¬ 
gether. 

Rana arose and ran to her mother, and 
the two embraced each other with deep af¬ 
fection and even passion. Herotah loved 
her child as she loved none other. This 
journey of hers into the depths of the dun¬ 
geons beneath the palace was inviting dis¬ 
aster. Pharaoh was, at the moment, a slave 
to an angry passion that would not abate 
even for the love he bore his queen. If she 
were discovered, her life would pay for her 
indiscretion. 

Presently, kissing her daughter fondly, 
she led her to the rough couch and bade her 
be seated. Her voice was deep with emo- 

[148] 



The Sword of Destiny 


tion, and tears stood upon her cheeks, but 
her words were of cheer, and she forced a 
smile to her lips that gladdened the heart of 
her daughter. 

“Sweet One,” Herotah murmured, “thou 
hast indeed put thy mother to shame. 
Would that mine own courage were as great 
as thine, when Pharaoh did summon us to 
bow the knee to this false god. Alas, my 
flesh weakens for very fear of him who sits 
upon the throne. My soul aspires to Amon, 
Rana, but . . .” and her words broke into 
sobs of anguish, “. . . but this body of mine, 
which men call beautiful, it ... it is Pha¬ 
raoh’s. Listen, my child, for thou wilt need 
mine advice one day, if thou art spared from 
the wrath of thy father. 

“My child, it is well to aspire to the heart 
of a king. It is well to nurture beauty and 
to fascinate him whose favors can be as 
boundless as the sea. But the heart of 
woman is more precious, sweet Rana, than 

[149] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


all the wealth of the world. The love of 
woman is a passion that no wealth can buy.” 

She laughed bitterly and passed her lovely 
hands across her brow. 

“How long have I given myself and my 
beauty to this monarch! How often have I 
tried to awaken some spark of love for him 
within my breast! The gods have laughed, 
my daughter, and the gods have mocked, 
but in all my life I have not known the love 
of man. These priceless jewels, these silken 
robes . . . they burn into my flesh, they 
accuse, they poison, they suck my life from 
my body, and slowly . . . would that it 
might be with such speed as should bring 
me death to-night! . . . Slowly, my daugh¬ 
ter, the blood that is within my veins turneth 
cold, my heart withereth . . . my master is 
well pleased but I ... his mistress . . . 
suffer dire torment under the yoke of riches 
and the passion of this king. 

“I am no better than they who may not be 

[150] 



The Sword of Destiny 


so discreet. True, it is, that I have sold my¬ 
self, body and soul, to the highest in the 
land. Yet ’tis as true that I pay, even as 
others pay, every hour of the day and night, 
for my folly and my ambition. Daughter, 
heed not the smooth tongues and idle flat¬ 
tery of men. Scorn the gold of the land, my 
Rana, and hearken only to the voice of love. 
I ” 

She paused and gazed deeper into the 
eyes of her daughter. She lifted her hands 
and caressed the shapely head of the girl, 
her lips parting slowly as she read what 
lay revealed to her. 

“It ... it is love that I see within thine 
eyes, my daughter?” 

Rana smiled sadly. 

“Even so, Royal Mother, it ... it is 
love.” 

Elerotah’s eyes gleamed and her lips 
trembled. 

“It ... it is he whom thou hast saved 

[151] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


with thine own life? The charge of our 
Reverend Father, Rah Neb? It is the youth 
who shall presently sit upon the throne of 
Egypt . . . Tutankhamen? Speak, my 
Own, for I am thy mother and I ... I have 
dreamed of this thing for many months.” 

Rana turned her head away to hide the 
tears that streamed from her eyes. 

“It is as thou sayest, my Mother,” she 
sobbed; “but love . . . love is forbidden to 
us even upon the day of its birth. To-mor¬ 
row, in the temple of Karnak . . .” 

Herotah embraced her child passionately 
and rose, as if she could stand this strain no 
longer. 

“Amon,” she cried, half to herself, “this 
thing that Pharaoh hath planned ... it 
must not be. Hast thou no pity? Have the 
sins of thy servants hardened thee against 
this flower of mine heart? Canst thou not 
spare this child and her lover, whose hands 
are without sin? Cannot thine anger fall 

[152] 



The Sword of Destiny 


upon the heads of those who have proved 
faithless? Amon, god of Egypt, sacred to 
my heart and to the hearts of the people of 
Egypt . . . hear me! I ... I weary of 
this world, I, great god, have sinned. Let 
this yoke fall upon my shoulders . . . take 
my life . . 

“Stay!” 

It was the voice of the slave, whose alert 
ears had caught the words of the Queen. 
He had entered quickly and was kneeling 
at the feet of Pharaoh’s wife. 

“Great One,” he murmured, “a messen¬ 
ger hath come, from the tavern where hid- 
eth Rah Neb, our Reverend Father in 
Amon, and his royal charge. To-morrow, 
O Queen, it is planned to overthrow the 
throne of Pharaoh Akhnaton. The messen¬ 
ger bade me hasten to thy side and plead 
with thee to cheer the heart and sustain the 
courage of thy daughter.” 

• • • • 

[153] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


The temple of Karnak, its pylon tower 
gleaming in the burning brilliance of 
Egypt’s sun, was crowded to the doors. 
Outside, in a vast space stretching far into 
the town, a mighty multitude was assem¬ 
bled to witness the awful spectacle which 
Pharaoh had planned as final proof of his 
loyalty to Aton. 

The courtyard was strewn with fuel-piles 
which, presently, would burst into blaze, 
and each circle of fire would blacken and 
burn into nothingness a human form. There 
were five thousand such piles, and for each 
there had been set aside a living sacrifice. 

The mammoth crowds assembled seemed 
engulfed in a hush of dread and foreboding. 
Men’s faces were severe, many were fearful 
and white. But, here and there, stood those 
who seemed to have another and more im¬ 
portant concern than the sacrifices of Pha¬ 
raoh. They moved slowly among the peo¬ 
ple, speaking in low, earnest tones. Their 

[154] 



The Sword of Destiny 


eyes gleamed with a strange light, but they 
fulfilled their mysterious missions with in¬ 
finite caution, avoiding the soldiers of the 
guard who had been posted, as usual, to 
maintain order among the common rabble 
whom Akhnaton had summoned to the gates 
of Karnak. 

But inside the temple things were very 
different indeed. Here was glitter, bril¬ 
liancy and luxury in abundance. Here were 
men and women of the court clad in their 
robes of office. Yet even these conversed 
only in the lowest of whispers, each one ey¬ 
ing from time to time the purple-robed fig¬ 
ure, silent and stern, that reclined upon the 
throne. 

For many this spectacle was to be one that 
tailed for silent endurance of a sight which, 
even to the most callous among them, would 
prove revolting. But none had dared to 
offer a protest against the fanatical bar¬ 
barity of their king, for fear that they, too, 

[iS5] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


should die upon the altar, that their own 
life-blood should flow with the blood of 
Herotah’s favorite daughter as a sacrifice to 
Egypt’s deity. 

And, an hour since, a further example 
of Pharaoh’s brutality had reached their 
ears. Herotah herself had been required to 
take her place beside the throne of the King, 
and to witness with her own eyes the death 
of her favorite child. 

At first the news was received with in¬ 
credulity. Such heartlessness seemed be¬ 
yond the realms of possibility, even with 
Pharaoh. But, from the lips of Hiljah him¬ 
self, the rumor had been definitely con¬ 
firmed until now it had become a fearful 
certainty. 

Surely no woman could endure what Pha¬ 
raoh had required his queen to endure! 
Yet dared Herotah defy her master, even in 
such a grim command as this? Dared she 
remain absent from this spectacle, or would 

[156] 



The Sword of Destiny 


she come, mutely obedient, to try her en¬ 
durance of Pharaoh's cruelty to the utmost? 

The court was not long in doubt. For a 
few brief moments the priests of Aton, clad 
in their brilliant robes, continued to pace 
the aisle before the altar, the burnished 
plates of gold, symbolical of the sun, blaz¬ 
ing upon their breasts above the thin, filmy 
black that only gave additional glamour to 
their gaudy dress. 

For a few brief moments the High Priest, 
Saket, knelt in prayer before the effigy of 
the Sun-god, his lips muttering incoher¬ 
ently, his cruel eyes closed, his head, capped 
with the crown of office, bowed in the atti¬ 
tude of reverence that with Saket was al¬ 
ways overdone. 

For a few brief moments the assembled 
courtiers paused to survey the completed 
preparations for the dread ceremony which 
was to be shortly enacted before their eyes, 
and then a band of soldiers arrayed them- 

[157] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


selves smartly at the main entrance to the 
temple, a terse word of command rang from 
the lips of their captain, and Herotah, 
gowned in silken robes of purple and white, 
passed slowly up the steps, across the floor 
of the temple, and, in the anticipative silence 
of all who watched, knelt before her royal 
master and finally took her place at his side. 

Pharaoh smiled with relief at the timely 
arrival of his queen. For many days he had 
steeled himself against his passion for this 
most beautiful of women. It had cost his 
comfort dear to demand her presence at 
such a time, and for such a spectacle, as 
this. But Pharaoh’s fanatical devotion to 
Aton was greater than his passion for Hero¬ 
tah, and he had not wavered in this last, 
horrible demand. His only fear had been 
that his wife might have refused the request, 
regardless of the cost, and that another fair 
body would have to be placed as a sacrifice 
upon the altar. 

[158] 



The Sword of Destiny 


With Pharaoh this would have been dis¬ 
astrous. It would mean that she whose 
beauty he loved with a great passion would 
pass from his palace, into death. And Pha¬ 
raoh would have gone to extremes rather 
than sacrifice the fair body of Herotah. 

But now his mind was at rest. Herotah 
had obeyed. Now was to follow a triumph 
that would indeed satisfy the desires of 
Aton. He, the ruler of all Egypt, was to of¬ 
fer a favorite daughter as a sacrifice upon 
the altar. 

He glanced again at the fuel-pile set 
neatly upon the marble steps of a dais set 
apart for such sacrifices. He pictured the 
slim figure of Rana standing there, her arms 
bound to her sides, with soldiers standing 
near and priests alertly watching at the 
rear. The life of this girl was of no great 
consequence to him. But such a gift to 
Aton would sound magnificent to rulers in 
distant parts, when they should hear of this 

[ 159 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


proof of Pharaoh’s supreme devotion to his 
deity. 

But it was time now for the grim cere¬ 
mony to begin. Saket was regarding his 
monarch questioningly. With a casual 
glance at his queen—who was sitting, her 
lovely features blanched and set, her eyes 
staring unseeingly before her—Pharaoh 
waved his hand in consent, and Saket moved 
to his place beside the altar. 

He raised his arms aloft and every head 
was bowed. He uttered a brief word and 
all but Pharaoh knelt. He prayed fervently 
and quickly. His priests passed to and fro 
with incense-bowls, wafting the smoking 
fragrance into the air. And then the High 
Priest bade the worshipers rise again, and 
he motioned a soldier on guard at a door 
to the right. The soldier saluted, jerked 
his spear backward, and the door opened. 

Rana entered. 

She was clad in a robe of simple white, 

[160] 



The Sword of Destiny 


and her dark, silken hair was loose about 
her shapely neck and shoulders. Her 
lovely features were white and waxen. Her 
soft lips were parted, slightly, and a won¬ 
derful light shone in the depths of her black 
eyes. 

She paused on the threshold of the temple 
and swept the assembed multitude with her 
gaze. Her hands were clasped upon her 
breast. As she caught sight of her mother, 
she smiled perceptibly, and a meaning 
glance passed between the two. Pharaoh 
saw and was a little puzzled, but Rana did 
not seem to notice her father. 

Turning, she walked between two black- 
robed priests to the raised dais behind the 
altar, and waited, quietly, before the stoop¬ 
ing figure of Saket. 

The High Priest regarded her keenly, and 
his eyes searched her own for some trace 
of fear or emotion. But whatever shone in 
the eyes of Rana was not for the under- 

[161] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


standing of Saket. Disappointed, this wor¬ 
shiper at the shrine of outward show and 
vanity turned away and began to mumble 
other prayers to the golden effigy of Aton. 

At length he stopped, bowed three times 
toward the throne, and then conversed 
quietly with a priest at his side. 

The latter nodded and walked over to 
where three of his brothers were standing. 
Immediately the four officials advanced and 
seized the waiting girl. Quickly, her arms 
were bound behind her, and the white robe 
she wore was loosened and allowed to fall 
slightly below her shoulders; her hair was 
untouched and, as she turned her head and 
gazed upward into the dim distance of the 
roof, it seemed to crown her profile in a 
beautiful luster as a shaft of sunlight ca¬ 
ressed its silken strands and intensified its 
beauty. 

The priests stepped back, their work corn* 

[162] 



The Sword of Destiny 

pleted, and Saket motioned the girl to a 
raised position in the center of the pile of 
fuel at her side. She obeyed meekly and 
stood before the multitude as a beautiful 
Madonna, her supple figure drawn to its 
full height, her eyes searching the shadows 
in the roof above, every muscle of her body 
tense, and no thought further from her mind 
than the thought of fear. 

Pharaoh gazed as one transfixed. There 
was a certain holiness about this girl that 
he had not noticed before. She seemed not 
as one about to die, but as one pausing upon 
the verge of glorious life. She had moved 
as one performing a sacred duty, and yet it 
was as if her sight had failed to catch the 
dazzling array within the temple, as if she 
had seen only a vision of something very 
far away, something that was known only 
to her soul. Rana seemed to be in sacred 
communion with an unseen presence, and 

[163] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


yet her ears had heard the commands of 
the High Priest and she had obeyed them to 
the letter. 

Pharaoh rose from his throne and stood 
erect, his gaze centered upon the little group 
about his daughter. For one moment he 
appeared to hesitate, and then he raised his 
hand. Every eye but Rana’s was upon his, 
and, in the breathless silence of the temple, 
he spoke. His voice was stern, but it was 
also unsteady. His eyes were alight, but 
the harsh light of cruelty had turned into 
one almost of fear. 

“My people, ye are acquainted with the 
reason for this sacrifice. The justice of 
Aton is never merciful. Aton is a stern 
god, even as Pharaoh is a stern ruler.” 

He paused to survey the effect of his first 
simple words, and then his whole frame 
seemed to quiver under the wave of a great 
passion. His hands clenched and un¬ 
clenched, his lips trembled, his eyes blazed 

[164] 



The Sword of Destiny 


and his voice rang out in a high, frenzied 
tone. 

“Shall one who refuses to bow before 
the god of Egypt escape the vengeance of 
the god of Egypt, even though she be the 
daughter of a Pharaoh? Should I, Pha¬ 
raoh Akhnaton, betray my sacred trust as 
guardian of the holy destinies of Aton, and 
save a child of my own rather than fulfil 
the commands of my god? Nay,” and he 
shouted the words with every atom of power 
at his command, “for I love only those 
whose affection is centered upon the god of 
my choice. Thou, then,” he flared, turning 
at last to the motionless figure of his daugh¬ 
ter, “shalt pay even as others have paid be¬ 
fore thee for their own disloyalty to our 
sacred deity. The fires of Aton shall con¬ 
sume thy fair body, Rana, and shall send 
thy soul to eternal damnation! And ye who 
witness such a sacrifice, know ye that who¬ 
soever falleth into the paths of wickedness 

[165] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


and disloyalty, shall stand where she now 
standeth, despised and rejected, an unclean 
mortal whose body must be destroyed in the 
flames of justice ere her living frame defileth 
again the name of our god. Her lips, that 
have lied and mocked . . . those lips shall 
be silenced for ever and ever. The eyes that 
gazed with unholy emotion upon sacred 
things shall be blinded. The ears that heard 
the prayers of the priests of Aton shall hear 
only the cries of lost souls in the wilder¬ 
ness of death. Proceed, then, and let this 
thing be done without delay. Witness, O 
Egypt, and know that Pharaoh standeth be¬ 
fore the altar of Aton, and that all who de¬ 
file the fair name of Aton shall themselves 
appease a righteous wrath with their lives. 

“Rana, thou wast my child, and within 
my court thou didst find all that thou didst 
desire. Thou wast the daughter of a king, 
and happiness, riches and power were thine. 
For thy sin thou shalt find only death. 

[i 66] 



The Sword of Destiny 


Thine ashes shall be buried deep in the 
earth, lest they defile even the winds of 
Aton. And as thou diest, as thy body trem- 
bleth with the heat of the flames, as thy 
frame writheth under the fiery torments 
that await thee, recall that the words of thy 
king are words of truth. And watching thee, 
as thou goest painfully into death, my peo¬ 
ple shall glory, even as I, their king, shall 
glory, in the fair name of the god whom 
thou hast mocked.” 

He ceased suddenly, and one of the wait¬ 
ing priests moved forward, a lighted torch 
in his hand. He paused before the fuel and 
stooped to ignite the dry wood around the 
stone on which the beautiful Rana stood, 
seemingly devoid of all knowledge of what 
was passing. 

Yet, at this moment, her lips moved, her 
breast heaved, and an even stronger light 
glowed within the depths of her eyes. 

And, upon the instant, a white-robed 

[167] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


youth stepped out from behind a pillar near 
the altar, where he had been standing un¬ 
seen. His right hand held a sword that 
gleamed in the sunlight. He rushed for¬ 
ward with a cry and drove his weapon 
straight into the body of the stooping priest. 

The latter dropped his torch, which the 
youth extinguished with his foot, and fell 
forward upon the cold marble, dead. 

The youth turned in the tense silence, and 
his gaze wandered from the crowd of fas¬ 
cinated priests and courtiers to the throne 
where Pharaoh, gasping at the suddenness 
of what had happened, was standing mo¬ 
tionless. 

The eyes of the youth were flashing fire, 
and his whole body was tense. Raising his 
sword aloft, he stared straight into the eyes 
of the King and his voice rang out like a 
bell through the lofty spaces of the temple. 

“Thy time hath come, Akhnaton, and this 
is the hour of thine atonement. Thou who 

[168] 



The Sword of Destiny 


hast conquered kingdoms, meet thy con¬ 
queror” 

Before the soldiers of the guard could 
reach him, he had leapt across the aisle and 
up the marble steps of the throne. Within 
the space of two seconds he had reached the 
inert figure of the King. For an instant his 
sword flashed in the air, and the youth drew 
back his arm. 

And then the blade shot forward, its bril¬ 
liance already stained with blood, and 
pierced the body of the monarch. 

Pharaoh seemed to awake from a stupor 
and pass into frenzied reality. His hands 
clutched the shining blade and a horrible 
scream escaped his lips. 

Then he stumbled forward, the youth 
withdrawing his sword as Egypt’s body 
crashed onto the steps of the throne. 


[169] 














VIII 

THE VENGEANCE OF HILJAH 


VIII 


THE VENGEANCE OF HILJAH 

F OR a moment the ruler of Egypt lay 
there, trembling from head to foot. 
Then, as two of his attendants rushed 
to his aid, several of the soldiers standing 

near seized the youth and held him, waiting 

/ 

for what should follow. 

While the unconscious monarch was car¬ 
ried tenderly to his throne, there to lie back 
among a mass of silken cushions, Tutankh¬ 
amen watched as one fascinated. He 
heeded not the soldiers who held him in a 
grip of iron. His strange eyes followed the 
inert body of Akhnaton, as one gazing upon 
a scene utterly strange and strangely won¬ 
derful. 

Rana had moved across the aisle to his 

[173] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


side, and, for one brief moment, he averted 
his gaze to her. His thin lips parted into a 
smile, but he did not speak. Then, after 
that visual caress, he turned again to the 
still form of Pharaoh. 

Akhnaton was slowly regaining conscious¬ 
ness, but it was plain to see that his wound 
was fatal. He would recover his mental 
powers, momentarily, and then the mighty 
ruler of Egypt would pass into the Great 
Beyond for ever. 

A phial of wine had been brought by the 
court physician who had been standing be¬ 
hind the throne with a score of other of¬ 
ficials, and slowly the thick liquid was 
poured between the King’s parched lips. 
After a moment his breast rose and subsided 
more perceptibly, and then his eyelids 
opened. There was a dull film over his 
eyes. The light of fanatical fury had de¬ 
parted, leaving only the vaguest suggestion 
of interest. His gaze searched those assem- 

[174] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


bled around him and found at length the 
figure of the youth, where it rested, reflec¬ 
tively. Finally Pharaoh’s lips moved, and 
in a quiet voice he spoke. 

“Thou . . . thou art this youth whom 
Rah Neb . . . ? 

He paused, as if the effort was too great; 
but the youth understood and slowly he 
nodded his head. He regarded the dying 
monarch with a pitying glance, and both 
he and the King seemed utterly emotion¬ 
less. It was as if they had played their 
parts, known to them both ere they took the 
stage, in some fateful drama. This was the 
end of the tale, and each had come to the 
destiny which the writer of the play had 
planned. 

“It is the end, then,” Akhnaton whispered, 
pressing his two hands to his chest. “In my 
dreams I have seen thee, as thou art. I have 
dreamed of that sword which thou holdest 
in thine hand. I . . .” 

[i 75] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Egypt,” the Counselor urged, “this 
youth hath wounded thee, and the guards 
await thy word. Let us make of him a 
sacrifice, at this moment, upon the altar of 
Aton. See, O Royal One of Wisdom, the 
fuel-pile is still unlighted, and the 
priests . . 

But Pharaoh waved the Counselor aside 
with a faint smile, his eyes still fixed upon 
the lad before him. 

“Thou hearest the faithful Hiljah, youth? 
They would take thy life, even as thou hast 
taken mine. Why is there no hatred in my 
heart? Why do my lips refuse to utter 
those words which shall be thy fate? Why 
do I not desire to see thee writhing in the 
flames before the altar? Upon my life, 
young man, I cannot tell thee the reason for 
these things. Yet when thy sword pierced 
my breast, I ... I could have killed thee 
with mine own hands. 

“And, in that space of darkness, when I 

[176] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


fell, a shadow seemed to envelop my soul. 
I awoke to find my heart empty of all pas¬ 
sion. It hath been thus, and thus I have 
known it would be, my son. 

“There was a day when I, Pharaoh, did 
turn Rah Neb from my palace, scorning 
Amon and taking unto myself the love of 
Aton. Yet the words of Rah Neb passed 
not from my memory. ‘There shall come 
another king out of obscurity . . .’ Those 
words have remained ever before me, 
threatening my destinies, clouding my hap¬ 
piness. My soldiers have searched for the 
priest and thyself, yet always some unseen 
power hath protected thee from my 
wrath. 

“And in my dreams, not once, nor twice, 
nor yet a score of times, have I seen thee 
king of Egypt. In my waking hours, my 
son, I have thrust these dreams from me, as 
some unclean, evil thing. Yet always they 
would return at night, to torture and to 

[177] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


threaten. Always the hours of darkness 
rang with the words of him who hath kept 
thee in thy ways and brought thee at last to 
where thou art now. Always, within my 
heart was this strange fear of some impend¬ 
ing disaster that now hath come.” 

He sighed, and for a moment his eyes 
closed again. This Pharaoh was so changed 
that his quiet dignity seemed almost sacred, 
in the silence of the temple, before the anx¬ 
ious faces of his courtiers. 

“And so,” the King concluded, his voice 
now scarcely even a whisper, “these things 
that I have dreamed of have come to pass. 
So Pharaoh Akhnaton passeth from his 
throne, and now . . .” 

Something in the youth’s eyes caused him 
to stop. The soldiers had involuntarily re¬ 
leased Tutankhamen, who had raised his 
hand to command attention. Already this 
youth was king. 

“I will tell thee, Akhnaton,” he mur- 

[178] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


mured, “what is to be revealed unto thee 
now. Outside thy palace and around this 
mighty temple are assembled teeming thou¬ 
sands of thy subjects whom thou hast tor¬ 
tured with the worship of Aton, whose hap¬ 
piness thy false frenzy hath blighted, whose 
hearts thou hast embittered by thine evil 
lust for power. Listen, Pharaoh Akhnaton, 
and ere thou passest beyond the realms of 
hearing and sight, know thou that I, Tut¬ 
ankhamen, have conquered.” 

He turned and faced the assembled multi¬ 
tude who thronged the courtyard outside the 
temple. He raised his arms aloft, his right 
hand flashing the blood-stained sword. 

“Amon,” he cried. “Amon prevaileth, 
and Tutankhamen reigneth upon the 
throne!” 

The courtiers gasped, but from the vast 
crowds outside his cry was echoed from 
tens of thousands of throats. 

“Amon prevaileth, and Tutankhamen 

[179] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


reigneth upon the throne! Hail, Amon 
and our King!” 

The youth smiled triumphantly and 
turned again to the dying monarch. 

“Hearest thou, Akhnaton? Thou whose 
glory passeth into death? Even as thou 
hearest, the last faint sparks of life fade 
from thy body. Thy god is defaced, thy 
palace is already within my power. A little 
while, and all Egypt shall know me as its 
king. Amon is god! Amon is the god of 
Egypt! Akhnaton, thy days are ended. Thy 
name shall fade from memory as some grim 
blot upon the fair name of Egypt! Ere 
thou diest, take upon thy lips the name of 
Amon. He is a just god, Akhnaton, and 
even now Amon will be merciful unto thee. 
Thy journey is a long one, and thy needs 
are many. Repent, thou, ere the hour of 
death is struck.” 

For a moment it seemed that Pharaoh 
would have consented, that he would have 

[180] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


obeyed the commands of the youth; but even 
as his lips moved to form the words that 
should give proof of his desire to repent, 
something within him seemed to snap. His 
eyes bulged from their sockets, his hands 
clutched feverishly his breast, and he sank 
down into the cushions, dead. 

Outside the temple the multitude was still 
shouting the names of Amon and Tutankh¬ 
amen. Inside, the youth held courtiers, 
priests and soldiers alike under the spell of 
his personality. He turned slowly and 
faced them, his eyes burning again with the 
strange light that Pharaoh had seen a mo¬ 
ment before his breast received the shining 
sword. 

“Ye have witnessed,” he cried, “the power 
of Amon. Ye know, too, the will of your 
god. I, Tutankhamen, am your king. 
Amon is the deity of Egypt. The old order 
hath passed, and all things are new.” 

And now he turned to the waiting Rana, 

[181] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


smiling tenderly as he took her hand and 
faced the assembly again. 

“Rana is your queen, and ere another sun 
hath set, ye shall worship with us in this 
temple, before the sacred effigy of Amon.” 

Thus it was that the prophecy of Rah 
Neb, in the hour of his disgrace, was abun¬ 
dantly fulfilled. 

Egypt rejoiced with no uncertain voice in 
its new-found happiness, and Tutankhamen 
won the hearts of the people even as he 
ascended to the throne of the Pharaohs and 
took into his hand the destinies of a mighty 
empire. 

Akhnaton was laid to rest within a tomb 
that would have done honor to a greater and 
nobler king than he. Such was the honor 
of Tutankhamen toward an enemy whose 
unscrupulous cunning and heartlessness had 
made him notorious through the known 
world. 

“He was a king,” the young ruler re- 

[182] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


marked solemnly to his assembled cour¬ 
tiers, on the eve of his own coronation, “and 
as a king he shall depart upon that lone 
journey from which no man returneth. His 
body shall repose in kingly robes, and none 
shall say that Tutankhamen was not a gen¬ 
erous victor.” 

So Akhnaton was laid to rest with full 
ceremony of a Pharaoh. The gaudy robes 
of the newly established priests of Amon 
were draped with the black of mourning 
and the people of Egypt were well pleased 
with the generosity with which their youth¬ 
ful monarch bade farewell to a perished foe, 
according him all the honors due to his 
rank and position. 

“We have no love for the memory of 
Akhnaton,” they said among themselves, 
“but a king who will do as Tutankhamen 
hath done is indeed a ruler of honor and 
wisdom. So be it. We will kneel at the 
shrine of Akhnaton, and then we will de- 

[183] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


part hence with joy in our hearts, for Tut¬ 
ankhamen bringeth the sun of life and light 
into our lives and into our land.” 

The day set aside for the marriage and 
coronation of Tutankhamen and his bride 
was to be one which should stand out in 
letters of red in the history of that vast em¬ 
pire. The streets would resound with the 
jubilant cries of the people as the young 
man and the girl passed on their way to the 
temple of Karnak. 

Within this mammoth pile were assem¬ 
bled, long before the appointed hour, count¬ 
less officials and courtiers from far and near, 
and the maze of color that flashed from 
their robes of state was dazzling to the eye. 
The effigy of Amon stood triumphantly 
above the altar, and all might now worship 
with sincerity and love in their hearts; for 
Amon was indeed enthroned within the 
hearts of Egypt’s people. 

Pythios, the gifted successor to Rah Neb 

[i8 4 ] 



The Vengeance of Hilxah 


as High Priest of Amon, himself awaited 
the King, and, clad in his luxurious robes 
of office, he conducted the young man to 
the steps of his throne. And while Tutankh¬ 
amen ascended the dais alone, the whole 
assembly waited in awed silence for the ar¬ 
rival of the beautiful Rana. 

Tutankhamen was among those who lis¬ 
tened with the greatest eagerness for the 
cries of the multitude outside the gates that 
should herald the approach of his bride. 
Yet many moments passed and still he 
waited. Rana did not come. 

The young man remained anxiously 
standing before his throne, and all eyes were 
turned to the high entrance porch. But the 
vast crowd without was still silent, its gaze 
fixed upon the shining towers of the dis¬ 
tant palace. 

What could have delayed the girl? 
Surely no untoward incident had occurred 
to cause some hitch in this most important 

[1853 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


function! Even as he had passed from his 
own apartment to his gilded chariot, a mes¬ 
senger had informed him that all was well 
with her who was presently to become his 
wife. At length, with anxious demeanor, 
the young King turned and beckoned El 
Caleb, who had now been appointed to the 
position of High Counselor, and spoke to 
him anxiously. 

“Something is amiss, Counselor. My 
bride should have been here some little 
while before this. Do thou bid a messenger 
speed to the palace to inquire the reason for 
this delay. My courtiers are waiting, and 
it is not wise to delay such a ceremony as 
this. Hasten to do my bidding, Counselor. 
There is deep anxiety within my breast.” 

El Caleb nodded and passed quickly 
down the steps of the throne to one of the 
guards across the aisle. He spoke to him 
briefly, and the soldier saluted and paced 
to the door. Here, another guard was wait- 

[i 86] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


ing, and this latter, at a word from the 
former, turned and ran off in the direction 
of the palace. 

But almost before he had passed from 
sight into the multitude, another soldier ap¬ 
peared, perspiration streaming from his 
face. He approached the guard who had 
given the order and blurted out a hurried 
message. The guard nodded and, his fea¬ 
tures paling perceptibly, walked quickly to 
where El Caleb was standing. 

The Counselor gasped and immediately 
approached the waiting monarch. 

“ ’Tis evil news which thy servants bring 
to thee, O Egypt! Rana, so ’tis said, hath 
disappeared from the palace! And, more¬ 
over, the dungeon where thy soldiers placed 
the evil Hiljah is empty, O King. The 
counselor of Akhnaton hath escaped from 
the palace, and none know whither he hath 
gone.” 

Tutankhamen’s features blanched and his 

[187] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


under-lip trembled. His handsome eyes 
narrowed and a curious gleam came to light 
within them. 

“What/’ he asked earnestly, “can this 
mean, El Caleb? What evil fate hath be¬ 
fallen the queen of my heart? Speak, my 
friend, for I love her more than life itself!'’ 

El Caleb shook his head sadly. 

“What I have told thee, O Master, is all 
that was known at the palace when my mes¬ 
senger departed.*’ 

“Then I will return with thee with all 
speed," the King announced. “Hasten, 
Counselor, and see that my chariot is 
brought to the doors. If any harm hath 
come to the beautiful Rana, those who are 
responsible shall pay with their lives!” 

He would have turned and descended the 
steps of the throne had not El Caleb laid a 
kindly but firm hand upon his shoulder. 

“Nay, O Egypt, it cannot be thus. Thou 
art a king and thv responsibilities are great. 

' [1S8] 



The Vengeance of Hiljali 


This dread news must not reach the ears of 
the people, for their love of thee might in¬ 
spire them to grievous excitement. Thou 
must make some excuse for the absence of 
thy fair bride, O Master, and this ceremony 
must proceed. Let it be with all haste, I 
beseech thee, that thou mayest return and 
inquire into this matter when thou art 
crowned king of Egypt.” 

Tutankhamen paused, his brain burning 
with fevered anxiety. He seemed to be bat¬ 
tling with himself as to what course he 
should pursue. On the one hand, his heart 
urged him to hasten to the palace that he 
might at once begin the search for his love. 
Yet, on the other hand, he was upon the 
threshold of his throne, and his responsibili¬ 
ties demanded that this ceremony should 
proceed at once. Eventually his lips com¬ 
pressed firmly, and he nodded. 

“I almost forgot, good friend, what my 
people require of me. Yet I will not for- 

[189] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


sake them now. They shall have their hap¬ 
piness, their jubilation. Let this ceremony 
proceed.” 

El Caleb smiled proudly and motioned 
Pythios to begin. Meanwhile, Tutankha¬ 
men raised his hand, though it was needless 
to command the attention that was already 
wholly centered upon him, and he addressed 
the assembly in deep, steady tones. 

“My people, it hath just been brought to 
mine ears that Rana, our royal bride, lieth 
unwell at the palace. Her illness is not 
great, and your hearts need not to be heavy 
on her account or mine. It is merely a 
brief indisposition, and the heat of Egypt’s 
sun is great. Therefore we shall proceed. 
To-day is one of great joy to you all, to 
Egypt and, greatly, to myself. Our royal 
bride bade me hail you with cheer. There 
shall be naught but happiness and jubila¬ 
tion within our hearts this day.” 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


It was evening and the King, having re¬ 
turned through the adoring multitudes that 
still thronged the streets of Thebes, was 
pacing his reception chamber in a fever of 
worry and anxiety. El Caleb stood at the 
entrance, regarding the young monarch 
with deep concern. There was a great af¬ 
fection in his heart for this youth, whose 
interests he had helped to guard in adver¬ 
sity with the zeal of a father. When Rah 
Neb had passed into death, on the very eve 
of their triumph, it was El Caleb who had 
stepped into the place of the old High 
Priest and it was to him that Tutankhamen 
now looked for advice and guidance in mat¬ 
ters of importance. 

From the open terraces came the distant 
cries of the populace, and the flashes of 
light from a thousand torches illuminated 
the evening sky and sent purple shadows 
into the luxurious apartment. But while 

[190 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


there was joy without, deep anxiety pre¬ 
vailed within. 

Upon a couch at one corner of the apart¬ 
ment reclined the beautiful figure of Hero- 
tah, and she, too, watched every movement 
of the King with sympathy and concern. 
Sometimes she would raise her hand to 
shade her eyes, and when a passing flash of 
light from without caught her features, El 
Caleb could see that there were tears that 
glistened like diamonds upon her waxen 
cheeks. 

“I know not where to turn,” Tutankha¬ 
men murmured with great emotion, as he 
paced to and fro, his hands clasped behind 
his back. “It is not enough for mine ene¬ 
mies to rob mine hour of triumph of its 
glory, but they must steal from my heart 
the most precious possession that reigneth 
there. But they shall pay!” he cried fer¬ 
vently. “They shall pay tenfold for this 
thing that they have done! And Rana shall 

[192] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


come to no harm at their hands! Already 
my soldiers are scouring the distant desert 
and ere morning there may be news.” 

El Caleb grasped at this hope, eager to 
cheer the heart of the beloved youth whose 
mental torment wrung his soul. 

“They cannot have gone far,” he urged. 
“Saket and Hiljah have not many friends 
in Thebes, my son, and it will not be many 
hours ere happiness reigneth once more in 
thy heart and the hearts of thy people. I 
fear this news will leak out, and on the 
morrow their hearts will be sorrowful be¬ 
cause of this thing which thine enemies 
have done to thee, O Egypt But be of good 
cheer! Rana loves thee with a love that is 
greater than even thou thyself knowest, O 
King. Have no fear of the issue. Amon 
watcheth over his children, and the destinies 
of thyself and thy loved one are very dear 
to our god.” 

But his words brought no trace of a smile 

[193] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


to the lips of the youth, and with a despair¬ 
ing sigh, he shook his head sadly and passed 
out into the corridors, making his way 
slowly to his own apartments. 

Herotah rose almost immediately and 
moved toward the King, embracing him 
fondly. 

“My son,” she cried, “be not so sad. It 
tears my heart to see thee in such grief. 
Thou hast trusted in Amon faithfully in all 
the years of thy life, and thou hast followed 
the destiny that Amon hath laid out for 
thee. Do not, in this hour of darkness, trust 
only to thine own powers, Tutankhamen. 
Go to thine own private chamber and, upon 
thy knees, beseech his aid. Thou wilt not 
find the power of Amon lacking, O Egypt.” 

With a sudden impulse, the young man 
knelt and pressed the beautiful hands of 
Herotah to his lips. Her eyes glistened 
with a wonderful light at the kisses which 
he showered upon her thus, and, withdraw- 

[194] 



The Vengeance of Hiljah 


ing one of her hands, she caressed the head 
of him whom she loved as if he were her 
own child. 

“How I love thee, Tutankhamen!” she 
murmured. “Indeed, thou art my son in the 
sight of Amon. Thou art indeed worthy of 
these honors which our god hath showered 
upon thy head. Arise, O Egypt, and face 
this thing with the dignity of a king. Dost 
thou tremble before such a test as this, mine 
own? Thou hast conquered an empire, my 
son. Pass thou into the presence of Amon 
and then, thyself, scatter thine enemies and 
bring back to thy palace her who is dear to 
thy heart . . . and to mine.” 

Tutankhamen rose, encouraged by the 
words of Herotah, and looked keenly into 
her eyes. 

“Thou speakest wisely,” he said, a look 
of determination flooding his face. “It shall 
be as thou sayest, O Royal Mother. I have 
been weak, within my heart, and the tor- 

[195] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


ments of grief have blinded mine eyes and 
numbed my senses. I will go, and, by the 
power of Amon, I will conquer mine ad¬ 
versaries. Much lieth behind this affair, 
and much that is of great consequence to 
Egypt. But . . 

He was about to proceed further when 
El Caleb hastened into the apartment and 
spoke in tones of great emotion. 

“A messenger cometh in from the desert, 
O Egypt, with news of thy bride, of Hiljah 
and Saket and those who went with them 
from this city. Wilt thou see this man?” 

Hope shone within the eyes of the 
King. 

“Hasten, Counselor!” he urged. “Let not 
a moment be wasted! I will see this mes¬ 
senger at once!” 

El Caleb nodded and beckoned to some 
one standing out of sight along the passage. 
Those within the royal apartment heard the 
sound of shuffling sandals and a travel- 

[196] 



The Vengeance of ‘Hiljah 


stained Nubian, his brown body glistening 
with sweat, stumbled in. 

For a moment he stood erect before the 
King, his great chest heaving fearfully, his 
thick lips gleaming with a film of froth. 
He made as if to speak, his eyes bulging 
from their sockets, and then his whole 
mighty frame trembled. With a short cry 
he swayed slightly backward. . . . 

Then, before the astonished, eager gaze 
of those who stood within that chamber, the 
Nubian’s body crashed onto the thick car¬ 
pet. The trembling of his frame ceased. 
With a final groan, his body became inert, 
and he ceased to breathe. 

With a cry, El Caleb hastened forward 
and placed his hand upon the slave’s chest. 

“Master,” the Counselor murmured, as 
he rose slowly to his feet, “this messenger 
hath proved a worthy servant. But the 
news that he brought unto thee must remain 
untold. He ... is dead.” 

[197] 






IX 

A STRANGE COMMAND 

























IX 


A STRANGE COMMAND 

T utankhamen bowed his head 

and turned away, his lips tense, his 
features blanched. 

“It is but a trick of fate!” he groaned. 
“From the desert cometh one who knoweth 
much and the gods decree that, ere his lips 
part to utter the message that he bringeth, 
they shall be sealed forever. No matter 
that the happiness of my life lieth hanging 
by a silken thread, no matter that the des¬ 
tinies of my kingdom waver in the balance! 
Fate is in a jocular mood, my friends, and 
Egypt must provide the means whereby a 
callous fate shall find amusement. Alas, 
the hour of triumph is but a step nearer to 
disaster than less joyous days, in the lives 

[201] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


of all men. We achieve great destinies but 
to perish in the web of providence. We 
aspire to unknown heights, conquer much, 
attain much, and, when all mankind lie 
worshiping at our feet, we fall into the un¬ 
explored depths of degradation and dis¬ 
grace because, in our seeking after much, 
we have not deigned to notice the lesser ele¬ 
ments that worked against us while we 
soared unto the skies. These . . . these 
were beneath our dignity!” he laughed 
harshly, and his lips curved into a bitter 
smile. “But yesterday, it seems, all things 
were accomplished. Evil had perished. 
The servants of Aton lay within my dun¬ 
geons, beneath the palace. To-day these 
same enemies have fled, somewhere into the 
mysterious distances of the desert stretching 
far from Thebes. To-morrow . . .” he 
shrugged his shoulders, despairingly, “to¬ 
morrow . . . who knoweth?” 

[202] 




A Strange Command 


El Caleb had risen to his feet while the 
King was speaking, and now he stood 
quietly at the young man’s side. 

“Thou art over-despondent, master,” 
he murmured, when the torrent of words 
from the lips of the King had ceased. 
“Thou hast indeed conquered much, O 
Egypt, yet the task of the victor is greater 
than that of the vanquished. He who holds 
great destinies within his hands must hold 
also great anxieties . . . great responsibili¬ 
ties. The greater the throne, the greater 
are the dangers which beset the ruler who 
sitteth upon the throne. Courage, my son, 
for thou art but young to thy great position. 
Dost thou quail even now, in the first great 
days of thy reign, before these threats? 
Tarry, O Egypt, and reflect. Thou hast 
yet to prove thyself fully in the sight of 
Amon. Thou hast proved thyself a con¬ 
queror. Thou hast yet to prove thyself in 

[203] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


holding that which thou hast conquered.” 

Tutankhamen looked up suddenly and 
regarded the High Counselor keenly. 

“There is much in what thou sayest, El 
Caleb, but it is this uncertainty which sap- 
peth the courage from my breast. Look into 
those seething multitudes beneath these bal¬ 
conies. See how they cry in very joy for 
what hath passed, these few brief hours since 
Akhnaton was torn from his throne and the 
name of Amon, linked to my own, was set 
upon the pinnacles of this mighty empire. 
With what ease did we sway the multitude! 
With what ease, then, could not some other 
sway them again to the worship of Aton 
and the name of another ruler? Among 
them all, my friend, have I one faithful 
servant . . . one whom I can trust among 
the common people of this land? Among 
them all, is there one who would give his 
life for his king or the glory of his god?” 

El Caleb smiled sadly. 

[204] 



A Strange Command 


“Thou speakest foolishly, my son. But 
thou wilt learn many things in the days that 
are to come. Listen!” 

He paused and drew the young King to 
the edge of the balconies where, in the 
shadow of one of the mighty pillars, they 
stood gazing down onto the sea of faces 
below. 

“Thou knowest well, O Egypt,” El Caleb 
went on, “that Amon is the god of Egypt 
and that thou reignest in the hearts of thy 
people. Already their joy is great through 
love of thee. Among them all, there 
are thousands . . . nay, millions . . . who 
would gladly lay down their lives for thy 
sake.” 

“But,” Tutankhamen persisted, “how do 
I know this thing, El Caleb? It is well for 
thee to speak thus, but ’tis proof that will 
reveal to me the truth of thy words.” 

The High Counselor appeared incredu¬ 
lous. 


[205] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Proof? Thou needest proof, O Egypt?” 

“Even so. ’Tis that alone which I would 
have, my friend.” 

El Caleb nodded slowly and led the way 
back into the chamber which they had left. 
As they entered, they saw that Herotah had 
risen from her couch and was kneeling al¬ 
most reverently at the side of the inert body 
of the Nubian slave. Her hands were 
clasped together and her lips muttered low 
words which, to the two men, were inaudi¬ 
ble. As he gazed, however, a new light 
came into the eyes of the High Counselor. 
He turned again to the King. 

“Look thou upon this proof which thou 
seekest, O Egypt.” There was a note al¬ 
most of scorn in his voice. “See thou, first, 
the bond of love there is in all the world 
between the highest and the lowest. See 
thou the fair and beautiful Herotah kneel¬ 
ing before a common slave whom thou es- 
teemest among the least of thy subjects. See 

[206] 



A Strange Command 


thou this Nubian, to whom thou wast but 
a mighty name. Didst thou not see the light 
upon his face . . . the pride, the glorious 
admiration ... as he came into thy royal 
presence but a while since? He brought 
unto thee a message, Tutankhamen, and for 
thy sake he hath given his life. Methinks 
thou didst not even pause to know some se¬ 
cret emotion, some wave of sympathy in thy 
heart, as thou sawest him die, at thy feet, 
one of the humblest of thy servants who 
had not hesitated to give his all that one 
brief message might come safely unto thine 
ears. Think, O Egypt, and see, now, if 
thou needest proof of what thou speakest. 
Nay, thou hast much to learn, O Egypt, of 
thy calling as monarch of this mighty em¬ 
pire. Go thou, my son, and seek counsel 
with Amon, for he alone can give thee wis¬ 
dom and knowledge. I have passed many 
years of my life within the walls of this pal¬ 
ace, but I am too poor a man to presume to 

[207] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


offer these virtues to thee. Amon alone can 
provide them. Go thou, my son, while these 
words linger within thy memory, and speak 
thy difficulties unto Amon.” 

As he paused the young King drew him¬ 
self proudly to his full height and took the 
hand of his counselor with an expression of 
gratitude upon his handsome features. 

“It shall be as thou sayest, El Caleb. I 
will go into mine own apartment and kneel 
awhile before the effigy of our god.” 

He passed slowly across the carpeted 
floor, but ere he reached the luxurious cur¬ 
tains that shrouded the King’s inner apart¬ 
ments from view, there was a sound of foot¬ 
steps in the corridors outside and one of 
the court officials entered, bowing rever¬ 
ently as his gaze lighted upon the figure of 
the monarch. 

“What is it thou desirest?” Tutankha¬ 
men asked carelessly. “Unless thy message 
is urgent. . . .” 

[208] 



A Strange Command 


The newcomer nodded quickly, his eyes 
gleaming with eagerness. 

“Thy servant hath news of much mo¬ 
ment, O Egypt! There have come unto thy 
palace a while since, messengers from the 
court of Bazur-Ashi, bringing word from 
the lips of the Emperor himself. They 
would speak with thee, O One of Wisdom, 
on important matters of state.” 

“Bazur-Ashi?” Tutankhamen queried 
slowly. “To what pertaineth their mes¬ 
sage?” 

“I know not, O Egypt, but they bade me 
say unto thee that Hiljah and the fair Rana 
are even now at the palace of the Emperor, 
and . . .” 

The monarch’s eyes flashed fire. He 
waved his hand imperatively. 

“I will see them without delay! Hasten 
thou and summon these messengers hence!” 

Quickly the official withdrew, and Tut¬ 
ankhamen turned eagerly to El Caleb. 

[209] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Thou hearest?” 

El Caleb nodded. 

“Even so, O Egypt. Dost thou desire 
that I should remain at thy side, or . . 

He moved to leave the apartment, but 
the young King called him back. 

“I have no secrets from thee, El Caleb. 
Thou knowest that. I desire thee to re¬ 
main.” 

The High Counselor bowed and returned 
to the side of his master. Meanwhile, 
Herotah had risen to her feet and was re¬ 
garding the young King questioningly. He 
caught her glance and smiled tenderly, 
moving toward her and enfolding her in his 
strong arms. 

“Fairest One, who am I, thy son in the 
sight of Amon, to require thee to withdraw 
at such a time? Nay, I would have thee 
always at my side, Herotah, and with thee 
. . . El Caleb, who, with thee, is such a 
friend as no man, not even a king, could de- 

[210] 



A Strange Command 


serve. Only the secrets of death shall come 
between us, dear friends. Until that day 
ye shall abide with me always.” 

He was standing thus when the curtains 
over the entrance parted again and the of¬ 
ficial returned to announce the messengers 
from the court of the Emperor of Bazur- 
Ashi. As the young man nodded his assent, 
the official stood back and three swarthy 
soldiers, whom their bearing and armor 
distinguished as men of high rank, passed 
into his presence. 

They bowed low as they entered, yet El 
Caleb, a man of shrewd judgment, was 
quick to notice the suggestion of insolent 
indifference in their bearing. 

The High Counselor stepped forward, 
frowning, and spoke to them. 

“Our King hath been gracious to grant 
you immediate audience, but ye must needs 
be brief in what ye have to say. Speak, I 
beseech you, and if ye bring news of the evil 

[211] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


High Priest of the deposed Aton . . . 
more, if ye can say one word to ease the anx¬ 
iety of our King for the safety of the royal 
Rana . . . proceed with all haste, and 
Egypt will assure you of his gratitude.” 

The leader of the messengers, an impos¬ 
ing figure in his shining armor, smiled 
quietly and his hand moved to caress his 
stubby beard. 

“We bring unto thee,” he began, ignor¬ 
ing the High Counselor and addressing him¬ 
self to the monarch, “words from the lips 
of our monarch, the Emperor of Bazur- 
Ashi. Having acquainted thee with his 
wishes, O Egypt, it is for us, his servants, 
to return hence unto the palace of the Em¬ 
peror with thine answer.” 

Tutankhamen nodded impatiently and 
frowned. 

“Thou speakest that which is plain to us. 
Hasten to the message which thou dost 
bring!” 


[212] 



A Strange Command 


Again the messenger paused insolently 
and proceeded in deep, suggestive tones. 

“News hath reached our Emperor, O 
Egypt, of the death of Pharaoh Akhnaton 
and thy coronation.” 

“Even so,” Tutankhamen cut in, obvi¬ 
ously annoyed by the other’s refusal to voice 
his message. “This thing is known through¬ 
out other countries than that which thou 
dost represent.” 

“Pharaoh Akhnaton,” the messenger pro¬ 
ceeded, “was a friend of our great Em¬ 
peror.” 

He paused once more and then went on. 

“The High Priest of Aton, one Hiljah, 
hath escaped from thy prisons, Pharaoh 
Tutankhamen, and even now enjoyeth the 
hospitality of our monarch in the palace of 
Bazur-Ashi.” 

The King’s brow clouded with anger, 
and when he spoke his voice was coldly 
sarcastic. 


[213] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“So it would seem, from the little thou 
didst speak unto my servant who received 
thee. Thou shalt know my wishes a while 
hence. Proceed.” 

“There is also at the palace, O Egypt, 
the fairest of the fair, whom thou dost 
aspire to place upon the throne of this em¬ 
pire as thy wife.” 

Tutankhamen stepped forward, angrily, 
and raised his hand. 

“I see, from thy voice and bearing, that 
thou speakest not as a friend to our cause. 
Remember, thou,” and his words rang with 
a withering scorn, “that I am ruler of all 
Egypt, and that this mighty kingdom is, 
through me, the master of the world. Con¬ 
tinue, I command thee, but see thou well 
that thine insolence appeareth not so evi¬ 
dent in what thou hast further to say. I 
would have respect from thee, and if thou 
dost not so respect the dignity of my pres- 


ence . . 


[214] 



A Strange Command 


The soldier smiled, fearing not to inter¬ 
rupt the words of the King. 

“Remember, O Pharaoh, that she whose 
safety is very precious unto thee resideth 
in our midst, in the kingdom of Bazur- 
Ashi! Our royal monarch did require our 
safe return unto his palace, and our lives, 
O Egypt, are assured by the life of her 
whom . . 

Tutankhamen gasped. 

“Upon thy knees, thou son of insolence! 
El Caleb,” and he turned sharply to the 
quiet figure of the Counselor, “do thou sum¬ 
mon the slaves that stand without, and have 
these fools removed from my presence.” 

El Caleb, who had been watching the 
scene without a word, nodded slowly and 
passed from the apartment. As he went 
Tutankhamen turned again to the soldiers, 
his anger growing every moment. 

“Did ye not hear me? Upon your 
knees, this instant, or your lives shall pay 

[215] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


the penalty of your insolent disobedience to 
my commands! Do ye not know the folly 
of disobedience to the words of a king?” 

The leader nodded, but neither he nor his 
companions made any move to obey. 

“Pharaoh, we know thee not as king. 
Our ruler is the Emperor. Him and him 
alone, will we obey.” 

By now the slaves had entered and six 
towering Nubians stood silently behind the 
soldiers, awaiting a sign from their royal 
master. 

“Upon your knees!” Tutankhamen 
stormed; and then, after a momentary 
pause, he signaled to the slaves, who raised 
their strong arms and grasped the soldiers 
around their throats, forcing them easily to 
their knees. 

“Now,” Tutankhamen flared, “ye shall 
deliver your message thus. What is it that 
ye have to say unto me? Speak quickly ere, 
through mine anger, grievous harm be done 

[216] 



A Strange Command 


unto you. ’Tis only love of her whom ye 
have cruelly stolen from this palace that 
saves you from death upon this instant.” 

The soldiers realized that their position 
was, to say the least, humiliating; yet each 
was aware that theirs was the trump card 
and that Tutankhamen would never dare 
lift a finger to harm them while the fate of 
the fair Rana lay in the balance. 

Nevertheless, the leader did not delay to 
deliver the remainder of his message with 
all speed. 

“Our Emperor, Pharaoh, desireth many 
things with which he did command us to 
acquaint thee.” 

The young King, now more calm, 
nodded. 

“What is it that your Emperor desireth 
of me?” 

The soldier spoke quickly for several 
minutes, and what he said brought back the 
clouds of anger to the brow of the mon- 

[217] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


arch. El Caleb, even, lost much of his pas¬ 
siveness and a strange, indignant light 
burned in his eyes. 

When the messenger had done, Tutankh¬ 
amen was standing erect, a figure of stone, 
it seemed; but within his eyes was that 
which brought fear to the hearts of the sol¬ 
diers. For some minutes the silence was 
tense, broken only by spasmodic gasps from 
Herotah, who had been listening in amaze¬ 
ment to the impudent demands which the 
soldier had made on behalf of his emperor. 
At length Tutankhamen stepped slowly for¬ 
ward and, with his right hand, he drew his 
sword and struck the leading messenger 
sharply across the cheek with the gleaming 
side of the weapon. 

“That,” he cried, his eyes narrowing and 
his handsome features contorted with rage, 
“is my answer to thine Emperor! And 
that,” he cried, striking again the other 
cheek, “is my answer to the insolence of his 

[218] 



A Strange Command 


demands and his servants! Return thou, 
with haste, into the presence of thy King, 
remembering the pain that the blows of 
Pharaoh’s sword caused thee. These mat¬ 
ters cannot be settled with sane reasoning. 
In their very impudence they are insanity 
itself. To-morrow the armies of Egypt will 
set forth from Thebes and ere many moons 
have come and gone, the people of Bazur- 
Ashi shall learn the folly of such an insult¬ 
ing offense as thou offerest. Depart, with 
all speed, fools, ere the messengers of the 
Emperor of Bazur-Ashi no longer enjoy the 
safety of the traveler.” 

He motioned the slaves to remove the 
messengers from the apartment, and as he 
turned, Herotah ran forward and clutched 
anxiously at his shoulders. 

“My son,” she urged, “thou speakest 
without thought. What of thy love, thy 
Rana . . . thine, my son, and mine? Upon 
the return of these messengers her life will 

[219] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


pay for thine anger. This matter requireth 
tact, O Egypt, and great wisdom. Heed 
thou the words of El Caleb and myself. 
Before thou speakest finally to these men, 
consult in solitude with thy god. Amon 
and Amon alone will advise thee.” 

Suddenly the anger that burned within 
his breast passed away and, motioning the 
slaves to wait with the messengers until he 
should return, he moved across the apart¬ 
ment and passed into the gloom of his own 
chamber. 

It was a long time ere he returned. His 
features were pale, but there was a light of 
sanity within his eyes that gladdened the 
hearts of El Caleb and Herotah. The 
young King walked directly up to the leader 
of the soldiers from Bazur-Ashi and spoke 
calmly, yet his words cut across the silence 
of the chamber like a whip-lash. 

“I spoke to thee anon,” he began slowly, 
“with anger in my voice. Thou hearest 

[220] 



A Strange Command 


now, and perceivest that such emotion hath 
left the breast of Pharaoh Tutankhamen?” 

Puzzled, yet somewhat assured, for he 
had been fearing greatly for the safety of 
himself and his companions, the soldier 
nodded humbly. 

“ ’Tis true, O Egypt, even as thou say- 
est!” 

Tutankhamen smiled. 

“Thou knowest that I passed from hence, 
a while since, to lay this matter before 
Amon, the god of Egypt and Egypt’s king?” 

“Even so, O Egypt!” 

“Thou dost recall that I spoke to thee of 
thy return to the kingdom and the court of 
thy master, the Emperor of Bazur-Ashi?” 

“Even so, O Egypt!” 

The young man paused and, when he 
spoke none within that chamber was so calm 
as he. 

“I spoke wrongly, then, of return. There 
will be no return to thy master. To-night, 

[221] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


thou shall find death within the dungeons 
that lie beneath the Palace of Thebes . Soon 
mine armies set forth for the kingdom thou 
shall never see again . Amon hath spoken 
thus through the mouth of Pharaoh Tut¬ 
ankhamen.” He turned and motioned 
quietly to the waiting slaves. “I, Pharaoh, 
have spoken. So be it, even as I have said.” 

He ignored the outstretched hands of the 
beautiful Herotah. He appeared not to no¬ 
tice the anxious inquiry in the eyes of El 
Caleb. 

“Leave me awhile,” he murmured, throw¬ 
ing himself wearily on his couch. “I . . . 
I am weary. I would be alone.” 

Immediately he closed his eyes and re¬ 
clined motionless in the attitude of sleep. 


[222] 



X 

THE CLOUD OF WAR 


































X 


THE CLOUD OF WAR 


D AYS passed. Tutankhamen’s court 
was astounded at the daring of its 
king. 

The Emperor of Bazur-Ashi was not a 
monarch to be trifled with, even by the ruler 
of all Egypt, and the young King’s com¬ 
mand that the Emperor’s messengers should 
be put to death was regarded as the height 
of folly. 

In vain did El Caleb and Herotah plead 
with him to repent of his foolishness and 
pursue a more diplomatic course. In vain 
did these two fast friends of the monarch 
urge that the life of the fair Rana was at 
stake. Tutankhamen remained firm in his 
decision. 

“Amon,” he said, “hath spoken. It is not 

[225] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


for Tutankhamen to question the wisdom 
of our god. What passed within my cham¬ 
ber, as I knelt before the effigy of our deity, 
none but Amon and Tutankhamen know. 
Suffice it that in his wisdom, Amon hath 
commanded and I, Pharaoh, must obey. 
There is no time to waste in idle fears. Ye, 
who did urge me to have faith, take ye that 
advice to your own hearts, my friends. 
Come, Counselor, and let us make our prep¬ 
arations for this new campaign. The 
armies of Pharaoh shall wage this issue 
with good hearts and unbreakable courage.” 

El Caleb shook his head sadly, and much 
of the light went out of his eyes. But he 
did not offer further protest. His diplo¬ 
matic instincts revolted at the idea of such 
a course as his master had chosen, but the 
name of Amon silenced all criticism. Tut¬ 
ankhamen had spoken, and, through him, 
had become known the will of Amon. 
Thus it would be. 


[226] 



The Cloud of War 


“Amon reigneth,” the Counselor mur¬ 
mured as he stood, accompanied by one or 
two lesser dignitaries in the court of Pha¬ 
raoh, gazing reflectively upon the young 
King who, seated at a table, was studying 
carefully a number of rolls of papyrus be¬ 
fore him. “Amon reigneth, brethren, and 
there is greater wisdom in our King than 
even I had dreamed of. My mind cannot 
fathom the mysteries of such wisdom as 
should dictate the course that Tutankhamen 
hath chosen, but it is the wisdom of Amon. 
Even so, to-morrow Egypt goeth forth to 
battle, and, whether it be to conquer or to 
fall, it is the will of our god.” 

He passed across the chamber and stood 
patiently at the side of the King. Tutankh¬ 
amen appeared not to notice the approach 
of the Counselor, and El Caleb said no 
word. It was many minutes before the 
monarch carefully rolled the last papyrus 
and rose from his stool. He stood reflec- 

[227] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


tively gazing across at the open balconies 
through which the brilliant sunshine sent 
keen shafts of yellow and gold. Beyond, 
the blue sky was cloudless, and out upon 
the barren desert the heat was almost un¬ 
bearable. 

“ ’Twill be a mighty battle,” the young 
man mused, half-consciously raising his 
right hand and allowing it to rest upon the 
shoulder of his counselor. “But the armies 
of Egypt are mightier than the mighty, and 
Amon fighteth for us.” 

Then quite suddenly he paused and 
strode nearer to the balconies. Upon the 
horizon, far out across the sandy wastes, his 
gaze had caught the gleam of armor and 
the figures of two men on horseback. He 
beckoned El Caleb to his side and pointed 
eagerly, a keen anticipation illuminating 
his features. 

The Counselor nodded slowly and, with 
a bow, turned and walked from the cham- 

[228] 



The Cloud of War 


ber. Meanwhile, as the young King gazed, 
the travelers came nearer, their course ly¬ 
ing directly to the city. 

“It is even as Amon hath said,” he mur¬ 
mured, his eyes narrowing curiously. 
“There come yet others from the court of 
Bazur-Ashi, bringing news which shall re¬ 
veal much unto us. A little while . . .” 

He wheeled about and faced the little 
group of courtiers and advisers within the 
chamber. “Go ye,” he commanded sternly, 
“for I would be alone. Do ye have these 
messengers from the Emperor conducted 
hither with all speed.” 

His companions bowed quietly and 
passed from the apartment. Tutankhamen 
watched them go and remained motionless 
until the curtains over the entrance hung 
motionless once again, and then, murmur¬ 
ing inaudibly to himself, he strode across 
to an inner chamber. 


[229] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Now, on those days when the air is clear 
upon the desert, it is possible for the eye to 
pierce far into the mysteries of distance, 
and so it was long before the sound of the 
tramp of horses fell upon the ears of those 
who waited at the gates of the palace for 
the arrival of the messengers from the court 
of Bazur-Ashi. 

Meanwhile the young King had spent 
many sacred moments in prayer before the 
shrine of Amon, and finally he had gone 
to the apartments of the fair Herotah and 
many words had passed between the two. 

So it was that, when the messengers at 
last strode through the imposing entrance 
to the palace, Tutankhamen was patiently 
awaiting them, seated upon his throne, sur¬ 
rounded by his courtiers and advisers in 
the luxurious reception halL 

At his side reclined Herotah, a strange 
new confidence within her heart, and the 
light of courage burning within her eyes. 

[230] 



The Cloud of War 


For it was to her that the young King had 
revealed all that Amon had unveiled before 
his eyes and so, while the court of Pharaoh 
labored under the burden of anxiety at what 
had seemed to be an act of foolish daring on 
the part of their king, Tutankhamen and 
Herotah joyed in a greater knowledge of 
what the future held for the land of their 
love; and in that knowledge they found 
abundant courage and confidence to steel 
their hearts against the gloomy forebodings 
of their advisers. 

Meanwhile the courtiers standing about 
the throne offered silent prayers in the name 
of Amon that greater wisdom might be 
given to their ruler in dealing with these 
second messengers from the court of Bazur- 
Ashi. 

Presently a trumpet blared somewhere 
outside the palace, and all conversation 
within the reception hall ceased. The mes¬ 
sengers had come. 


[23O 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Anon El Caleb entered, followed by two 
sturdy soldiers, their armor gleaming in the 
sunlight and their stern features set. But 
their every gesture suggested respect and, as 
they knelt deferentially at the foot of the 
throne, Tutankhamen smiled kindly and mo¬ 
tioned them to rise. 

“I see by your demeanor that ye know 
what respect is demanded by the dignity of 
this court. Arise, therefore, and speak 
freely unto us. Ye come from Bazur- 
Ashi?” 

The taller of the two soldiers bowed in 
assent. 

“We bring thee tidings from our royal 
master, the Emperor, O Egypt. First of 
all, it was given unto us to inquire the fate 
of those who came before us, a while since, 
and to beg of thee some reason for their 
failure to return to our court.” 

No trace of emotion was visible upon the 

[232] 



The Cloud of War 


handsome features of the King, and he an¬ 
swered in a calm, stern voice. 

“Ye know the respect that is required in 
the presence of a king. They who came be¬ 
fore you did not. For their insolence they 
have paid fully. They will not return unto 
the court of your Emperor.” 

The soldier nodded, but, beyond a slight 
movement of the lips, he betrayed no sur¬ 
prise at the news. 

“I fear, O Egypt, that the message which 
our Emperor hath commanded us to deliver 
will not prove good to thee.” 

Tutankhamen shrugged his shoulders, 
noncommittally. 

“Thou mayest proceed at once. Thou 
and thy companion shall leave this court 
with the full protection of my soldiers and 
find your way in safety back to your own 
land.” 

The soldier bowed again. 

[233] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Our lives, O Egypt, are dedicated to the 
service of our monarch. We have no con¬ 
cern in such matters. Our Emperor bade 
us give thee warning that unless the de¬ 
mands with which thou art acquainted are 
yielded to, the beautiful Rana, whom thou 
dost desire to place upon the throne of 
Egypt as thy wife, will be taken from thee, 
and given in marriage to another.” 

A momentary flame flashed in the young 
King’s eyes, but it passed as quickly as it 
came and left him calm. His lips even 
curved into a smile. 

“Pharaoh feareth not the threats of the 
Emperor of Bazur-Ashi,” he replied. 
“But there is a certain curiosity within 
my breast. Unto whom doth thine Em¬ 
peror aspire to give the daughter of Hero- 
tah?” 

“Unto him who was the High Counselor 
in this court, O Egypt ... the venerable 
Hiljah, who even now resideth at the palace 

[234] 



The Cloud of War 


of Bazur as an honored guest of our mon¬ 
arch.” 

Tutankhamen rose quickly, and his whole 
body stiffened. His features paled, and his 
eyes seemed to pierce those of the messenger 
who stood before him. 

“Is that the whole of thy message, then?” 

The soldier nodded, slowly. 

“This marriage, O Egypt, will proceed 
with all haste, upon our return, un¬ 
less . . .” 

Tutankhamen laughed, bitterly. 

“There is no need for further words. My 
answer is plain. It shall not, however, be 
an answer of words. Pharaoh hath heard.” 

The soldier seemed puzzled. 

“But the warning . . .” 

“Pharaoh hath heard,” Tutankhamen re¬ 
peated firmly. “Tell me, dost thou journey 
unto thine own country immediately?” 

“Yea, O Egypt, with all speed go we 
hence.” 


[235] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Pharaoh smiled. 

“It is well. But the Emperor’s messen¬ 
gers shall rest this night within my palace, 
and all hospitality shall be extended unto 
them.” 

The soldier frowned. 

“If it pleaseth thee, O Egypt, we would 
hasten to our land at once. We have far to 
journey ere this day’s sun hath set.” 

“So?” Tutankhamen queried, innocently. 
“Then ye shall have some delay, I fear, for 
it pleaseth me not to send you hence with¬ 
out an escort worthy of the occasion. Rest 
ye this night at Thebes, my friends, for to¬ 
morrow many from this place are journey¬ 
ing unto the court of thine Emperor.” 

The soldier seemed puzzled. 

“If it be thy pleasure, O Egypt, then we 
cannot but obey. Yet two messengers from 
a distant land need not an escort.” 

“So?” the young King smiled, keen 
amusement growing within his eyes. “Thou 

[236] 



The Cloud of War 


art wrong, indeed, for when the sun riseth 
over the desert, the armies of Pharaoh will 
be assembled before the gates of the palace. 
And when the answer which thou takest 
unto thy King reacheth his ears, the power 
of Egypt will be there to lay great stress 
upon thy words.” 

The messenger gasped. 

“Egypt, our Emperor bade us . . 

“Stay! Thou hast delivered thy message 
well.” His voice was stern now and com¬ 
manding. “A mighty battle alone can 
bring thy master to the sanity which I de¬ 
sire in him. Ye may go with me on the 
morrow, for Pharaoh leadeth his soldiers 
into battle! Depart, now, and take your 
rest. El Caleb,” and he turned sharply to 
the Counselor, who was standing behind his 
throne, “conduct the messengers of Bazur to 
their apartments and summon my captains 
to my chamber. I would speak with them 
of the morrow.” 


[237] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


The Counselor nodded and motioned to 
the astonished messengers to follow him. 

Meanwhile, the young King reclined 
wearily upon his throne again, and smiled 
quietly at the fair Herotah. The atmos¬ 
phere within the great hall was tense and 
the assembled courtiers were watching their 
royal master intently. His words had 
amazed all who had listened, yet the con¬ 
fidence with which Tutankhamen had 
spoken seemed to shame the fear that 
numbed their hearts. 

“Herotah,” the young man murmured as 
he reached out his hand for her own, “our 
court may not be blamed for approving not 
where there is no understanding. Yet to us 
have been revealed many things. Amon is 
indeed the god of Egypt, and to the armies 
of Egypt will he bring that victory which 
alone can open the gates to happiness. It 
tears my heart to tarry here, even for one 
hour, while she who meaneth more than 

[238] 



The Cloud of War 


Egypt herself lieth in captivity. Yet am I 
not a servant of Amon? Shall my wis¬ 
dom prevail beyond the wisdom of our 
god?” 

“Nay,” Herotah smiled, “thou doest all 
things well, my son, that thou doest in the 
sight of Amon. Arise, now, and speed the 
hour in which thou shalt rest a space. For 
on the morrow much is required of thee. 
To-day, my son, thou art a king. To-mor¬ 
row thou must be a leader in battle. And 
when thou comest again to thy palace, see 
to it that thou dost bring happiness to thy 
heart and joy to Egypt.” 

Impulsively she rose and, with a little 
sob, bent her lovely head over the hand of 
the King and kissed it passionately. 

“There will be many within the temple 
of Karnak, O Egypt, the while thou art 
away upon thine errand. The prayers of 
thy people and the power of thy god shall 
sustain thee in battle and bring thee vie- 

[239] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


tory. None has been so great as thee, my 
son, none ... in all Egypt.” 

• • • • • 

In a vast apartment in the palace of the 
Emperor of Bazur-Ashi were assembled a 
curious company. 

Upon a large dais in the center stood the 
shining throne, approached by twelve wide 
steps now lined with gaudily-robed at¬ 
tendants, and upon the throne reclined a 
man of mighty stature, his dark eyes flash¬ 
ing with cunning and anger, his right hand 
tugging alternately at his full mustache and 
sharply-pointed beard. To his ears were 
attached long ear-rings that glistened as 
each costly stone in the framework of gold 
caught the strong light and flashed its bril¬ 
liance in a thousand rich colors. He was 
garbed in purple robes of pure silk, and a 
heavy girdle—composed entirely of silver, 
pearls and rubies—hung loosely about his 
waist. 


[240] 



The Cloud of War 


The Emperor was obviously making no 
attempt to hide his angry impatience, as he 
glanced from one to another of the com¬ 
pany assembled beneath, and occasionally 
he would turn and make some petulant re¬ 
mark to the silent figure of the Counselor 
who stood at his side. 

He seemed almost unaware of the fact 
that a low, melodious voice was addressing 
him, and had been addressing him for some 
moments past, from the foot of the dais. 
The speaker was a stooping, silky individ¬ 
ual whose every word seemed to display 
the cunning and wily nature that had also 
stamped itself indelibly upon his wizened 
features. 

His name was Hiljah, one-time High 
Counselor at the court of Pharaoh Akhna- 
ton, and, as a guest in this strange land, his 
cunning brain still worked ceaselessly, cal¬ 
lously, toward the achievement of that end 
which should see himself established in a 

[241] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


position of power and authority even greater 
than that which he had filled when the 
sinister will of Akhnaton dominated the 
whole of the Egyptian empire. 

“One of Wisdom,” he was saying, his 
voice rising into a solemn chant that grew 
more monotonous as he proceeded, “the 
words which I speak but reveal to thee the 
plight of a country that would offer but lit¬ 
tle protest to thine arms. It is for thee to 
speak, and the vast empire of Egypt shall 
be at thy feet. My influence with those at 
the court of this stripling, Tutankhamen, is 
great. A little careful planning, a little pa¬ 
tience, and his throne will come tottering 
into ruin, even as did the throne of Akhna¬ 
ton, who stayed not to listen to the words of 
Hiljah” 

The Emperor’s gaze had wandered to the 
stooping figure of the speaker, and some¬ 
thing like scorn spread over his strong fea- 

[242] 



The Cloud of War 


tures as he raised his hand to command si¬ 
lence. 

“Stay! I have heard these things before 
from thy lips. I have given ear to thine 
advice, Hiljah, and thou hast enjoyed the 
hospitality of my court to the full. But 
thou dost allow thine eagerness to play 
havoc with thy wisdom. Did I not send 
three of my soldiers to the court of Pharaoh 
Tutankhamen at thy word and upon thine 
advice? Have I not waited in vain for their 

i 

return with Egypt’s answer to my royal de¬ 
mands? Did I not send even a second time 
unto Tutankhamen, and many days have 
passed and still these second of my emissa¬ 
ries are absent from my court. Peace, thou, 
and leave this thing to the wiser judgment 
of myself and mine advisers. I rest not un¬ 
der the burden of this anxiety. What evil 
fate can have befallen my messengers? 
Why is Egypt silent in the face of these de- 

[243] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


mands of mine? It is not comforting . . . 
this stolid silence that eats into my brain and 
robs me of my sleep.” 

But Hiljah was persistent. He turned, 
slowly, and his gaze wandered to a slim, 
white-clad figure of a girl who stood, be¬ 
tween two sturdy slaves, near the entrance 
to the chamber. A crafty, sensuous light 
came into his eyes and his lips parted, ex¬ 
posing yellow teeth and parched gums. 

“Great One,” he urged, turning again to 
the Emperor, “I beseech thee, hasten this 
marriage. For by such proof of thine au¬ 
thority, this stripling who rules over Egypt 
will know that thy words are words of stern 
and unswerving moment. He will tremble 
under thy threats and thy demands will be 
obeyed to the letter. Only give me this girl, 
this Rana who was to have been the wife of 
Egypt, in solemn marriage, and thy 
plans . . .” 


[244] 



The Cloud of War 


The Emperor rose impatiently and mo¬ 
tioned the stooping figure aside. 

“Enough of thy talk, Hiljah. Thou hast 
but little vision and thine eyes are blinded 
by lust for this girl. When Egypt hath 
bowed the knee to Bazur-Ashi and the de¬ 
sires of its Emperor, then, and then alone, 
shalt thou see such things as thou desirest 
for thyself.” 

He gazed where the slaves were standing, 
one on either side of the motionless figure 
of the beautiful Rana, and beckoned them 
to lead her nearer to the throne. Rana 
caught the gesture and immediately walked 
forward to the steps of the dais. The Em¬ 
peror stared sensuously at the easy grace of 
her movements and the beauty of her face 
and figure, and he smiled secretly, as he 
thought of such a marriage as Hiljah had 
proposed. 

The Emperor, who had lavished unlim- 

[24s] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


ited hospitality on the former counselor of 
Akhnaton, was far from being an easy dupe 
to the cunning schemes of Hiljah. Indeed, 
it was the Counselor himself who was play¬ 
ing into the hands of his host. For the Em¬ 
peror coveted this beautiful girl and al¬ 
ready a scheme was maturing in his brain 
whereby Rana should one day pass into the 
inner chambers of his harem to endure that 
fate which had befallen many of equal 
beauty and grace, in all the years that he 
had reigned over Bazur-Ashi. 

“This counselor from the court of Pha¬ 
raoh,” he had said jestingly to his advisers, 
“will serve our purpose well. We did wisely 
to speed his escape from Thebes, at the hour 
of Akhnaton’s downfall, but there is much 
that remaineth undone. When Tutankh¬ 
amen hath submitted to our demands, when 
Rana is safe within the doors of my harem 
and all that we have schemed for is accom¬ 
plished, I shall have but little use for this 

[246] 



The Cloud of War 


stooping sepulchre who aspires to power 
and authority once more.” 

He thought of these and many things 
as Rana approached and took her place 
before the throne, her cheeks waxen, 
her dark eyes dull with sorrow and anx¬ 
iety. 

“Tell me, girl,” he invited, kindly 
enough, “what dost thou know of thy lover 
and El Caleb, his counselor? Thine obsti¬ 
nacy is but foolish, for Tutankhamen can 
never vanquish the forces of Assyria.” 

Rana had met his shifty gaze steadily, 
and her eyes never left the sallow features 
of the Emperor. But she did not speak and 
as the monarch waited in vain for her reply 
an angry scowl grew upon his face. His 
lips compressed and his hand clenched 
slowly. 

“Dost thou not hear me, girl? Who art 
thou to remain silent when a king bids thee 
speak?” 


[247] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Rana smiled sadly and at last her lips 
parted. 

“Emperor thou art, but she to whom thou 
speakest is the betrothed of a monarch of 
greater power and dignity than thine. ’Tis 
to me whom thy respect is due, yet it ap- 
peareth thou hast but little scruple in these 
matters. Tutankhamen loveth me, O Em¬ 
peror, and for him and him alone is the 
heart and hand of Rana. There is no fear 
within my breast at all thy threats, for 
Egypt is greater and mightier than thou. 
In a little while thy majesty will have passed 
before the forces of his anger, and then . . .” 

She paused, her breasts heaved, and Rana 
lowered her gaze and became silent once 
more. 

“Fool!” It was the Emperor who spoke, 
his eyes blazing and his features contorted 
with rage. “Thou art a fool, girl, thus to 
address thyself to a monarch. Dost thou 
not know the power there is within Assyria, 

[248] 



The Cloud of War 


to bend this youth who sits upon the throne 
of Egypt? Thou and thy lover, Tutankh¬ 
amen, have neither wisdom nor under¬ 
standing thus to play with the fires of pas¬ 
sion in the breasts of those who see not eye 
to eye with Egypt! See, I have been patient 
with thee, Rana, but I will be patient no 
longer. I have waited, and my messengers 
to the court of Pharaoh have not returned 
to my palace. The voice of Tutankhamen 
is silent, and to-morrow mine armies shall 
assemble and journey hence to Thebes. We 
will see, thou foolish girl, upon whose head 
rests the crown of victory!” 

But ere he could proceed, an attendant 
hastened into the apartment, and passed 
quickly into the presence of the King, his 
features blanched with anxiety and his lips 
trembling as if the importance of the news 
he held was too great for his mind to con¬ 
tain. 

The Emperor frowned at the interruption 

[249] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


and turned to the servant with a gesture of 
annoyance. 

“What is it with thee?” 

The attendant knelt humbly upon the low¬ 
est of the twelve steps and lifted his gaze to 
meet the eyes of the King. 

“Royal Master, thy messengers have re¬ 
turned from Thebes.” 

The Emperor started back, and Hiljah 
gasped as the man uttered the words. Only 
Rana remained calm, and she seemed not to 
have heard the message which the servant 
had brought. 

“What news do they bring?” the Emperor 
asked sharply. “Hasten, thou, for I have 
waited long for this moment. Doth Pha¬ 
raoh Tutankhamen assent to the demands 
which were made of him at my royal com¬ 
mand?” 

The attendant hesitated. 

“Speak!” the Emperor demanded, mov¬ 
ing forward threateningly. 

[250] 



The Cloud of War 


“Nay,” the servant muttered, “ ’tis not so, 
O Master.” 

“Then speak at once the burden of this 
message! Why is thy hand trembling, why 
are thy lips parched, thine eyes fearful of 
what thou hast to say? Speak, I command 
thee!” 

“O Royal Master, I fear to tell thee, for 
the tidings which thy messengers bring to 
thee are evil. Egypt hath not bowed to 
thee, O One of Wisdom, and I saw, as I 
passed through the courtyard of the palace, 
a blaze of light upon the far horizon. Sire, 
within the desert, a little way beyond the 
city, the armies of Pharaoh are assembled, 
with Tutankhamen at their head, to do bat- 
tie with thine arms!” 

The Emperor started back, confounded, 
and something like a groan escaped his 
lips. 

At the same instant there was a cry from 
Rana who, as the words of the servant fell 

[251] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


upon her ears and the great anxiety within 
her heart turned into a wave of relief and 
joy, gave a little cry and sank, unconscious, 
onto the marble dais. 


[252] 



XI 


THE CARPET OF DEATH 























XI 


THE CARPET OF DEATH 

T IE days that followed were days 
of great moment in the destinies of 
Egypt. To the west of the valley 
of the Tigris, Tutankhamen had assembled 
the vast hosts of the eastern empire and with 
a great confidence in his heart he had 
thrown down the gauge of battle to Assyria. 

From Thebes there came, by day and by 
night, a perpetual stream of soldiers and 
around the youthful king of Egypt there 
grew an army of such magnitude as had 
rarely taken the field in the name of a pha¬ 
raoh. 

But, across the valley, the forces of As¬ 
syria were growing too, and from Bazur- 
Ashi there came thousands upon thousands 

[255] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


of sturdy warriors ere the day of the break¬ 
ing of the storm grew near. 

Surrounded by his generals, Tutankh¬ 
amen stood, upon the day when the mili¬ 
tary preparations were completed, an im¬ 
posing figure in his shining armor. The 
light of courage and confidence had never 
left his stern features, since that day when 
he had taken leave of his court and jour¬ 
neyed hence with El Caleb, his executive 
authority in the field, and the vanguard of 
his hosts. 

“It is a holy war,” he had said a score of 
times to the faithful El Caleb, “and in the 
hands of Amon the destinies of Egypt are 
safe. Courage, my friend, for courage and 
faith alone will bring us to that end where 
lieth victory and happiness.” 

Upon the morning when his armies were 
assembled in battle array, in the early hours 
of the daylight when but a line of gold 
streaked the far horizon, Tutankhamen 

[256] 



The Carpet of Death 


placed himself at their head and spoke to 
them as only the brave can speak before the 
impending battle, spoke to them words of 
courage and wisdom, spoke to them with 
kingly dignity the while his heart burned 
with hatred against those who had stolen 
from his palace her whose safety and 
happiness he esteemed beyond all earthly 
things. 

“Upon this day,” he cried, scanning the 
sea of eager faces and shining helmets with 
his eyes, “upon this day my country shall be 
tested in the sight of Amon. Ye who are 
assembled in this place with me to do battle 
with the enemies of our empire, give ear to 
the words of Tutankhamen. For what I 
have to say to you cometh from the lips of 
Amon, and into our hands hath been en¬ 
trusted the fulfillment of his desires. 

“We fight as brothers under the banner 
of glorious Egypt. It is my prayer that as 
your king I may be also your leader, and 

[257] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


such a leader as no man shall be ashamed of 
. . . such a leader as shall point to you the 
path of victory that, when the sun goeth 
down upon this day, the voice of Egypt shall 
speak with greater power and greater wis¬ 
dom than ever before. 

“There was a day when Amon required 
of you great confidence in me. There was 
no lack of courage in you then. Before your 
arms the power of Akhnaton trembled, his 
throne tottered. Akhnaton is dead. Egypt 
embarked upon that day, upon a new, a 
greater happiness. As your king, it is my 
charge—that happiness and prosperity that 
are your heritage. But unto every man of 
us there cometh a time when these things 
must be assured, and at such a price as shall 
take not into account the lives of men, be 
they laborers in the fields, counselors within 
the courts or kings upon great thrones. 
Such a time is now, my people. Away 
across the desert are those whose images 

[258] 



The Carpet of Death 


are stamped for all time within our hearts. 
Within the secret places of our hearts is also 
the love of Amon, who is our god and who 
alone is the god of our country. 

u For Amon go we forth this day! To the 
glory of Amon shall be the victories of this 
day! The dignity and prestige of our god 
shall be glorified through the blood of 
Egypt's manhood!” 

As he paused there burst forth upon the 
morning air the sound of cheering. Tut¬ 
ankhamen smiled happily and turned a mo¬ 
ment to El Caleb, who stood proudly at the 
side of his master. 

“Thou seest, friend, that thou wast right. 
Such loyalty as this gladdeneth my heart.” 

El Caleb nodded approvingly. 

“ ’Tis the hour of thy greatest triumph, 
O Egypt ... no less. Unto thee this day 
shall come such glory as only the greatest 
of our kings have known.” 

But Tutankhamen had turned again, and 

[259] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


as he raised his hand the cheers died into an 
eager silence. 

Once more he spoke, and at each word the 
hearts of all who listened thrilled with 
eagerness and anticipation. 

“We fight, my men, for more than honor, 
this day. Upon the success of our arms lieth 
the life of one who reigneth in your hearts 
as queen. It is for Rana, too, that we fight 
this day! 

“Egypt, arise, for the glory of thy god 
and the honor of thy country! Egypt, arise, 
for the life of thy queen! 

“There are those within the camp of our 
enemies who seek to take this frail and beau¬ 
tiful flower and to deface its beauty in such 
a way as turneth my heart into a blazing 
furnace of hatred and urgeth my power al¬ 
most to madness. 

“But, through the wisdom of Amon, I too 
have been wise. You love your queen, my 
people, even as I, your king, do love her. 

[260] 



The Carpet of Death 


’Tis for Rana that we fight, this day . . . 
Rana our queen, Amon our god! 

“Rana our queen!” he cried again, wav¬ 
ing his arms aloft. “Amon our god! 
Egypt our country! 

“Let these be your cries, and these alone, 
as ye strike into the hearts of our enemies. 
Let us turn their glories into a pool of blood, 
and upon the ruins of their power shall we 
build the effigy of our god! 

“Egypt, arise! Let us go forward in the 
name of Amon! Rana our queen! Amon 
our god! Egypt our country!” 

And slowly the vast hosts of Egypt ad¬ 
vanced, along the desolate spaces before the 
valley of the Tigris, toward the mighty 
armies of Assyria that stretched for miles 
along the distant plains, and as the sun rose 
into the heavens, trailing a path of golden 
splendor in its wake, there grew upon the 
sands of the desert that day a pool of blood. 
• • • • • 

[261] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


No pen may tell of the scenes of horror 
and tragedy that were enacted in that mighty 
battle of the plains. No words can speak 
of the hatred that burns within the human 
breast and the light of livid brutality that 
comes into the eyes of men when armies 
meet, and life is but a pawn to play upon 
the board of destiny. 

It is written that, in the early morning, 
the armies of Egypt and the hosts of As¬ 
syria met. It is written that upon the plains 
before the Tigris valley was begun and 
ended an episode in the tale of that thing of 
evil horror which men call war. It is writ¬ 
ten that of the thousands who went, in shin¬ 
ing armor, into the tragic affray, there were 
thousands who came not out of the gates of 
chance. 

It is written upon the book of knowledge 
that war is a monster whose tentacles were 
never spread across the world, or any part 
of the world, without a price being paid 

[262] 



The Carpet of Death 


that has its equal in no other phase or sphere 
of human destiny. 

And so, while there were some who 
shouted to the god of Amon while their 
blood-stained swords plied through the fur¬ 
rowed field of death, and while there were 
others who called hoarsely to the god of 
Assyria as they, too, took mighty toll of life 
and limb, the god of chance took full into 
his hands the reins of destiny that day, and 
when the sun went down and the skies of the 
desert were spread across with the yellow 
soberness and sanity of moonlight, the 
board was laid as chance had deemed it 
should be laid, and the players that stood 
no longer upon the board were victims, not 
of the gods of Egypt or Assyria, but of the 
god of chance. 

At the outset of the mighty battle, when 
Egypt set herself in teeming thousands 
upon the wall of power that Assyria had es¬ 
tablished across the desert, Tutankhamen 

[263] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


found himself against a greater foe than he 
had thought. 

By reason of his hydra-headed phalanx 
of elephants, their leathered bodies covered 
with gleaming mail on which were set 
stanch towers of armed men, the Emperor 
of Bazur-Ashi at first prevailed. 

Upon a near-by hill there stood a sinuous 
war-elephant and to its back, chained with 
silver fetters that glittered cruelly in the 
sun, was the beautiful Rana. Before her 
eyes the battle of men continued and, with a 
sinking heart, she saw the strong line of 
Egyptian hosts waver. Flash upon silver 
flash in that mass of struggling soldiers told 
its own awful tale of death. Here an As¬ 
syrian would raise a shining spear and an 
Egyptian would fall, his life-blood leaving 
a little blotch upon the weapon which did 
not reflect a gleam as the sun caught its even 
surface. There a Theban, crying aloud to 
Tutankhamen and the god of Egypt, would 

[264] 



The Carpet of Death 


curve a silvery sword about his head, would 
sweep his weapon downward, and an As¬ 
syrian head would fall, bodyless, to the hot 
sand, there to lie in its pool of crimson. 

The breast of the chained Rana heaved, 
and hot tears of anguish coursed down her 
waxen cheeks as she watched. There, 
among the gilded captains of his guard, her 
lover, Tutankhamen, loomed as a giant in 
affray, his sword curving in circles of silvery 
light above his head, his eyes flashing, his 
lips tense, his features set as he passed, a 
king and a leader, through the field of 
death. 

Backward and forward swayed the dou¬ 
ble line of armored men, a line that thick¬ 
ened and wriggled and receded and ad¬ 
vanced at every moment. And every mo¬ 
ment was laden with its tragedy and hor¬ 
ror, every moment saw its toll of human life, 
every moment brought fresh fires into the 
hearts of those who fought, and every mo- 

[265] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


ment the battle grew fiercer and more aw¬ 
ful. 

But the wily Hiljah, standing in safety 
behind Rana’s mighty bearer, and evilly 
surveying the wonderful and beautiful 
woman whom he fervently aspired to take 
unto himself, was thrilled, in his barren 
heart, at the sight of this creature of loveli¬ 
ness torn in anxious grief and suspense while 
before her eyes passed the supreme tragedy 
wherein were balanced the destinies of 
thrones, the happiness of her country, and 
the love of her life. 

But slowly the fear within her grew, for 
in the burning heat of the day the forces of 
Egypt were falling back, and no longer she 
caught by chance, fleeting glimpses of the 
figure of her lover in that maze of men and 
armor. Tutankhamen had been engaged 
but a little way from where she lay chained 
to the sight of that which robbed her almost 
of her senses. But now he had passed, in 

[266] 



The Carpet of Death 


the moving mass, to other parts of the field 
of battle; and though she might pray with¬ 
out ceasing to the god of Egypt, her lover 
was no longer within sight of her eyes. 

To see him, even in his dire peril, was 
better than this. At least she might know 
each time he struck a blow that went true, 
that the monarch of Egypt struck for the 
glory of his throne. Yet now she knew not 
even if he lived or lay a corpse among the 
ever-growing mass of flesh upon the sand 
of the desert. 

And so the day wore on, and it seemed as 
if the power of Egypt were but a vain chal¬ 
lenge to the forces of Assyria. The line of 
battle passed steadily backward, and it was 
Tutankhamen and his soldiers who re¬ 
treated. 

“We lose!” his captains cried a dozen 
times, as they found themselves at the side 
of their royal leader. “Amon hath forsaken 
us, O Egypt, and we perish!” 

[267] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


But the light that burned in the young 
King’s eyes was the light of victory. 

“We prevail!” he blared, fighting the 
while with the best of his soldiers. “And 
Amon fighteth for us! Rana our queen! 
Amonourgod! Egypt our country!” 

And his warriors went afresh into the 
bloody conflict, their hearts renewed, their 
courage stronger, their strength increased 
by the inspiration that came to them through 
the words of their king. 

And thus it was that when the evening 
came, the forces of Tutankhamen rallied, 
and the line of battle still moved across the 
tretching dead and dying; but now it moved 
the other way. 

Egypt’s forces saw and, as the tide paused 
and turned, their cries grew louder, and 
they were cries of exultation. Their swords 
flashed with more power and a greater cour¬ 
age burned within their breasts. 

[268] 



The Carpet of Death 


“Rana our queen! Amon our god! 
Egypt our country!” 

And as they saw, afar off, the lovely body 
of their uncrowned queen writhing still in 
agony upon the elephant of war, a frenzied 
fire overwhelmed them and they fought not 
as men, but as very demons in their fierce¬ 
ness. 

It was that frenzy alone which struck 
deep into the hearts of the Assyrian hosts 
and they wavered before the ferocity of 
their antagonists. 

Evening passed, in the din of striking steel 
and the cries of the slain and the shrieking 
of the fighting. The sun descended beyond 
the edge of the desert and the line of gold 
and purple died into darkness; the moon 
rose high into the heavens and cast a green 
and gray light upon the world. And when 
it was night the din had ceased, the bodies 
of the dead were untrampled by the heeLs of 

[269] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


the living, and far away in the distance, to¬ 
ward Bazur-Ashi it was, the cries of men 
grew fainter. 

Assyria had fallen. 

Egypt had conquered. 

Within the camp of Egypt’s hosts those 
who had lived and survived the horrors of 
the day were sleeping. 

All? 

Nay, there were two who did not sleep 
this night. They stood together upon the 
yellow hill to the west of the camp, a little 
way from the silent group of their attend¬ 
ants, gazing down at the lifeless carpet that 
stretched away across the desert so far that 
their eyes could not tell how far it was. 

And upon the near-by edge of the carpet 
of death there lay a dying creature, an ele¬ 
phant, its mighty head coated with sweat 
and sand, its leathered body netted with 
chains of silver that shone soberly in the 
moonlight. 


[270] 



The Carpet of Death 


“And for such a price,” the King was say¬ 
ing, as he held the lovely woman to his 
breast, “for such a price is the name of 
Amon lifted up, the glory of Egypt estab¬ 
lished, our happiness . . . our happi¬ 
ness . . 

But Tutankhamen could say no more. He 
had been looking across at the horrible end¬ 
lessness of the carpet of death, and his eyes 
were blurred with tears. 


[271] 












XII 


THE LOOM OF THE FUTURE 





















XII 


THE LOOM OF THE FUTURE 



PON the day when Tutankhamen 
and Rana were married, Thebes 
resounded w T ith the cries of jubila¬ 
tion that soared as waves across the golden 
desert and came to the ears of many distant 
travelers across the sandy wastes in which 
the mightiest city in Egypt was set. 

The temple of Karnak presented a pic¬ 
ture of decorative perfection that cannot be 
described in mere words. The smile of hap¬ 
piness was upon the lips of all who passed 
through the streets of the city that day, and 
upon the pinnacles of immortal glory were 
set the names of Pharaoh Tutankhamen, 
King of all Egypt, and Rana, his beautiful 

[275] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


bride, whose courage had retained within 
her a loyal heart to Amon even in the dark¬ 
est hour of adversity. 

Within the temple had assembled a 
mighty multitude of courtiers and ambas¬ 
sadors from distant lands, gowned in robes 
of beauty and brilliance. Flowers and 
jewels were mingled about the foot of the 
shrine of Amon, and before the altar stood 
the dignified Pythios, High Priest of the 
god, accompanied by a bevy of purple-robed 
priests and attendants. 

Upon the throne, above the vast dais, Tut¬ 
ankhamen was seated, his royal robes about 
him, his handsome features flushed with 
pride and happiness, while at his side Rana 
reclined, a creature of exquisite beauty and 
delicacy, a fitting wife indeed for the savior 
of Egypt. 

In the silence Egypt arose, and as he 
gazed at this imposing array of brilliancy, 
as his eyes caught the honest joy that was so 

[276] 



The Loom of the Future 


openly reflected in the faces of all who stood 
before him, his heart thrilled with a great 
pride and the memories of the past, streaked 
with bloodshed, suffering and tumult, faded 
into forgetfulness before the knowledge that 
now the glory of Egypt was established be¬ 
yond all challenge, that on this day was set 
the seal of happiness that should never pass 
away. 

“My people,” he said, his voice ringing 
through the lofty spaces of the temple, 
“such happiness as this I have never known. 
From the days of my boyhood there hath 
led a path that was all suffering, all an ever¬ 
present fear of some vile torment that hung 
like a cloud over my life, as it hung, in the 
figure of a king, over the skies of Egypt. 
But the path of blood may lead us all to the 
court of infinite joy and within the light of 
this great happiness my country shall find 
healing for the wounds of war and tribula¬ 
tion, and this day shall begin an era of per- 

[277] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


feet peace that Amon hath provided for all 
who love and truly serve his cause. 

“A while ago was darkness, rendered 
fearful by the power of Akhnaton. Yester¬ 
day was battle, and upon the plains before 
the valley of the Tigris many were slain 
whose hearts beat true in the service of our 
mighty empire. 

“But to-day are only victory, joy and 
thanksgiving. It is to-day we must remem¬ 
ber. Let the past be forgotten as an evil 
episode of darker days when there was no 
sun and when the glory of Egypt lay 
steeped in vice and villainy, and the honor 
of our court lay near unto death. We go 
not forth from yesterday, but from to-day. 
Let us go forth in the name of Amon, and 
let our hearts be always vigilant that we 
fall not again into disfavor. 

“In the days of my boyhood I had 
dreamed of this day, and of this moment. 
I have seen many visions, and they were 

[278] 



The Loom of the Future 


visions of truth. Let us find strength, my 
people, in virtue and honesty. And while I 
sit upon the throne of Egypt, let no cloud 
pass across the sky of Thebes, and let no 
other name than Amon’s be uttered in the 
sanctity of this temple.” 

He paused and in the silence that fol¬ 
lowed, his eyes wandered to the lofty en¬ 
trance to the temple and out into the burn¬ 
ing sunlight where the sea of faces spread 
even to the limits of the city. 

And at that moment a stooping figure 
turned from the crowds and made its way 
unhesitatingly to the very doors of the tem¬ 
ple, where two sturdy soldiers barred the 
way. 

The stooping figure gesticulated violent¬ 
ly, and the guards were about to lead her 
roughly away from the temple, when Sampi 
—for it was she, the woman of magic and 
mystery who came—suddenly freed herself 
from their grasp and ran like a frightened 

[279] 




The Kiss of Pharaoh 


animal through the lines of courtiers and to 
the very foot of the royal throne. Here, her 
dirty hair matted with sweat, her yellow 
teeth bared between parched lips, her whole 
body trembling, she knelt slowly upon the 
marble steps and raised her head until her 
eyes, like beads of fire, found those of the 
King. 

Tutankhamen did not raise the hand that 
would have brought a dozen soldiers to his 
side, he did not utter that one word of com¬ 
mand which would have seen the speedy re¬ 
moval of the Serpent-Woman from the glit¬ 
tering assembly. 

Far from betraying any emotion or anger, 
a quiet smile came to his lips and he re¬ 
garded the old woman with something 
akin to tenderness in his eyes. 

He was not thinking of this unseemly in¬ 
terruption at all. His mind had crossed the 
vast desert to the west of Thebes where, in 
the grim caves of Sampi, he and the old Rah 

[280] 



The Loom of the Future 


Neb had found safe sanctuary from the 
tentacles of Pharaoh Akhnaton. He saw in 
this old woman the kindly Samaritan who 
had taken the fugitives into her humble 
house and had cared for them unselfishly, 
without thought for herself, in those dread 
days when they knew not what any hour 
might bring in its train. 

u Thou hast come far, Sampi,” he re¬ 
marked simply, “to do honor to us this day 
with thy presence.” 

The old woman became suddenly calm 
and the fire died from her eyes. Slowly she 
nodded her head and her bony fingers 
clasped as she addressed the monarch. 

“Egypt, ’tis on a grievous errand that I 
come. Alone I have crossed the desert to 
tell thee of these things which mine eyes 
have seen, a moon since, in the loneliness of 
my humble cavern. Hear me, O Egypt, I 
beseech thee, for what I have to speak unto 
thee is of much moment.” 

[281] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Tutankhamen was puzzled, but he did not 
refuse the Serpent-Woman’s request. 

“Thou art free to speak, Sampi, as thou 
seest fit. See, thou shalt proceed even now, 
before all my court, upon those matters 
which have brought thee hither.” 

But Sampi only shook her head, and her 
lips trembled again. 

“Alone, O Egypt, would I address thee! 
That which I have to say is not for other 
ears than thine. ‘Speak thou unto the King,’ 
the spirits said, ‘and unto him do thou tell 
of that which thou hast seen this night.’ ” 

Tutankhamen did not at once reply. He 
seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, 
however, he turned to El Caleb, who was 
standing motionless behind the throne. 

“Counselor, do thou have this woman 
taken at once unto the palace and there do 
have her clothed and fed. She shall speak 
with me anon.” 

El Caleb nodded quietly and beckoned to 

[282] 



The Loom of the Future 


one of the waiting guards. The latter 
moved at once to the side of the stooping 
Sampi and, taking her gently by the arm, 
led her slowly from the temple. She made 
no protest, but while she walked again 
through the lines of courtiers her head was 
turned and her eyes were still fixed upon 
the young King, and her lips muttered in¬ 
coherently as she passed quietly out of sight. 

The moon was high over Thebes that 
night ere Tutankhamen could leave his 
guests. 

He found the mumbling Sampi awaiting 
him in his own apartment, where she had 
been taken by his orders, and as he entered 
the chamber a peculiar feeling of depres¬ 
sion came over him. 

Sampi was crouched in the shadow of 
one of the balconies and she did not hear the 
young King approach. Her eyes were star¬ 
ing insanely before her and her parched lips 
were muttering as if to an unseen presence 

[283] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


that hovered about her stooping shoulders. 

“Evil,” she was saying, her bony hands 
gesticulating as she rambled on, “and great 
evil . . . and greater evil . . . 

“It is the future . . . and the years that 
pass shall bring great evil . . .” 

Suddenly she turned her head and caught 
sight of the King, who was regarding her 
reflectively. Now he smiled kindly and 
seated himself on a couch at her side. 

“Thou art overburdened by thy message, 
Sampi,” he murmured, as if addressing a 
little child. “The desert sun hath oppressed 
thee, and I like not to see thee thus. Thou 
hast been good to me, Sampi, in the years 
that have gone. Thou hast done much for 
me and much for Egypt. Egypt shall not 
prove ungrateful to thee. See, I have given 
orders this day for a house to be set apart 
for thee here in this city, and thy needs shall 
be attended to so long as thou dost live.” 

The Serpent-Woman did not seem to hear 

[284] 



The Loom of the Future 


the words of the King. She continued her 
muttering and it was not until several min¬ 
utes had passed that she appeared to awake 
from her mood. At length she twisted her¬ 
self upon the carpet until she faced the 
young monarch, and there at his feet she 
told her message. 

“Many moons since,” she began in a low, 
broken voice, “old Sampi was seated as 
thou, O Egypt, hast often seen her seated, 
upon the mystic stool within her cavern.” 

Tutankhamen nodded, and at a sudden 
memory he passed his hand across his brow 
and a pained expression crossed his fea¬ 
tures. 

“It was in thy cavern, Sampi, that I saw 
. . . the gleaming sword ... it was there 
that I heard the shriek of the dying Akh- 
naton ... it was there that the future lay 
revealed, even as it hath proved, in the 
course of time, to be.” 

“. . . And the spirits spoke unto Sampi,” 

[285] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


the old woman continued, having waited, 
listlessly patient, until the King had finished 
speaking. “The spirits spoke unto Sampi, 
O Egypt, of the days that are to come. 
And, having heard, I left my cavern and set 
out across the desert, dragging my weary 
bones through the heat of day and the 
chill of night that those things which I 
heard might be spoken unto thee.” 

Tutankhamen smiled. 

“That was good of thee, Sampi. I am 
grateful. But tell me, I beg of thee, what 
it was that thou heardst in thy cavern on 
that night, many moons since.” 

“Of the future,” Sampi rambled on, “and 
of thee, O Egypt. Seven years . . . seven 
years that are to come . . . and then . . . 
and then . . . after seven years of happi¬ 
ness and joy and peace and goodly prosper¬ 
ity . . .” 

She paused, and her eyes wandered again 
to the magic of the night sky. She was ut- 

[286] 



The Loom of the Future 


terly calm now and her hands rested quietly 
in her lap. She did not hear the words of 
the King. She seemed not to know quite 
where she was. And so the monarch lis¬ 
tened, with kindly and infinite patience, 
while she muttered away, half to herself 
and half to the unseen presence with whom 
she seemed to be in a very sacred commun¬ 
ion. 

“Thou reignest, O Egypt, upon thy 
throne. The beautiful Rana is with thee, 
and only joy and happiness are within thy 
heart.” 

“True,” Tutankhamen muttered, musing¬ 
ly. “They are words of truth indeed.” 

“And in thy country is peace.” 

“And in my country there is naught but 
peace.” 

“And Amon reigneth . . .” 

“And Amon reigneth as the god of 
Egypt . . .” 

“And thus thy destiny hath been fulfilled. 

[287] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Thus thy dreams have come into glorious 
realization. ’Tis even so, O Egypt.” 

“ ’Tis even so.” 

“And yet . . 

Her hands trembled and the strange light 
grew once again in her eyes. 

“And yet thy days . . . thy days are 

few!” 

Tutankhamen ceased to breathe. His 
hands clenched and he stared incredulously 
down at the huddled figure before him. 

“Sampi!” he cried, fear in his heart. 
“What is that which thou sayest?” 

“Thy days are few,” she repeated, not 
raising her voice nor glancing at the young 
King, for her eyes never left the lofty spaces 
of the sky. “Seven years shalt thou reign, 
and after seven years have come and gone 
. . . after seven years have come and gone, 
thou shalt pass, O Egypt, from thy throne.” 

It was some moments before the monarch 

[288] 



The Loom of the Future 


could realize the full significance of her 
words. 

“Now there is naught but peace and hap¬ 
piness and contentment, Sampi,” he pro¬ 
tested. “Why speakest thou so? Dost thou 
say that in seven years another king will sit 
upon my throne?” 

Sampi’s old head nodded slowly. 

“Even so, O Egypt ... in seven years 
another king shall sit upon thy throne.” 

The monarch’s lips compressed and, as 
though he felt a sudden chill, he drew his 
cloak about him and clasped his hands about 
his shoulders. 

“Sampi,” he groaned, for he knew that 
no word of a lie had ever come from the 
unseen forces with which Sampi held un¬ 
ceasing communion. “Sampi . . . speak 
not so! I ... I would not see into the fu¬ 
ture! It is enough that now is joy and hap¬ 
piness. It is enough to know that this day 

C289] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


I have been united, in the sight of Amon, 
with her whom I love as none other. Spare 
mine ears these evil tidings, I beseech thee, 
and let us joy in the glory of the present. 
The future . . . that is to come. To-day is 
. . . is now. Let us live each day as each 
day cometh, that our hearts may brood not 
upon the future.” 

Yet Sampi was persistent and she seemed 
to exercise a certain influence over the King, 
so that he sat inert, as one hypnotized, and 
made no further protest. 

“Seven years shalt thou reign, O Egypt, 
and then all Egypt shall mourn thee, for 
thy soul shall depart from thy body, and 
thy body shall be laid within thy tomb which 
already thy servants build for thee within 
the Valley of the Kings. 

“But I see also other things than 
these . . . 

“I see through the mirror of the future 
. . . three thousand years! I see another 

[290] 



The Loom of the Future 


race . . . another world . . . I see stran¬ 
gers upon the sands of the desert. They 
come unto thy tomb, O Egypt, and then . . . 
thy possessions are gone . . . the walls of 
the chambers of death are broken down 
. . . and all crumbles in the light of the 
noonday sun . . . 

“Egypt . . . Egypt . . . they do deface 
thy tomb . . . and the glory . . . the glory 
hath departed see.” 

Sampi quivered from head to foot. She 
glanced once at the blanched features of the 
King. And then the light passed suddenly 
from her eyes. With a frenzied shriek, the 
Serpent-Woman fell backward and lay mo¬ 
tionless upon the floor of the chamber. 

Sampi was dead. 


[291] 





4 





\ 


XIII 


THE SECRETS OF THE DESERT 


y 


% 


XIII 


THE SECRETS OF THE DESERT 

j 4 ND now this tale is ended—or almost 
JLJL ended. There came a king from 
out of obscurity and beneath his 
flashing sword the evil that was in Egypt 
was banished, and the name of this king was 
Tutankhamen. 

And for seven years he reigned upon the 
throne of Egypt, and they were years of hap¬ 
piness and joy and unbroken peace. And 
while the young King and his wife found 
in the passing days a noble realization of 
their love, their people dwelt in a goodly 
prosperity, and there were none who spoke 
within their hearts against the name of 
Amon, or of Tutankhamen, or of Rana his 
beautiful wife. 

. [295] 


The Kiss of Pharaoh 


But in the midst of this sunshine of splen¬ 
dor there came a cloud upon the horizon 
of life in the palace at Thebes. Tutankh¬ 
amen was smitten with an illness and there 
were none whose skill could battle against 
that which slowly sapped the life from the 
body of the King. 

Sacred were those hours within the royal 
bedchamber when Rana sat, her arms about 
the neck of her husband, her cheek pressed 
to his, the while these twain knew within 
their hearts that the words of Sampi, ut¬ 
tered seven years before, upon the day of 
their marriage, were words of prophecy and 
truth. 

“Seven years shalt thou reign, O Egypt, 
and then all Egypt shall mourn thee, for 
thy soul shall depart from thy body, and thy 
body shall be laid within thy tomb . . . 
within the Valley of the Kings . . 

And so it was that, upon the last hour of 
the last day of the seventh year, Tutankh- 

[296] 



The Secrets of the Desert 


amen passed into the purple distances of the 
desert from which no man returns. 

Thebes was prostrated with grief, and 
prayers were offered without ceasing with¬ 
in the temple of Karnak. 

Egypt had known many destinies, many 
kings, but there was never one like unto Tut¬ 
ankhamen. And because of the great love 
that burned within their hearts for him, the 
people of Egypt assembled within the tem¬ 
ples of their god and besought the mighty 
Amon that his passing might be one of com¬ 
fort and peace. 

And there began, one day from Thebes, a 
vast procession that stretched for miles 
across the desert, and from the temple of 
Karnak the path of the mourners led unto 
the quiet Valley of the Kings. 

Here, in a luxuriously appointed tomb, 
the young King was laid to rest within the 
inner chamber, and, by the placing of the 
sacred scarab, the mummy was sealed. 

[297] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


Rana lay, pale and prostrated, before the 
encased body of her lord, hot tears coursing 
down her cheeks. She was sobbing as 
though her heart would break. Only Rana 
herself knew what the death of Tutankh¬ 
amen meant to her, but El Caleb, standing 
quietly behind, at the head of a select few 
of courtiers and statesmen, could under¬ 
stand a great deal. 

“ ’Twas only seven years,” he muttered, 
his own heart aching beneath the burden 
of his grief, “and yet in those seven years 
our King accomplished more than other 
pharaohs have achieved in a score of years. 
He found his country barren of all good, 
and to-day the only sorrow within the boun¬ 
daries of this mighty empire is that sorrow 
which we feel for the loss of him who was 
more than our King. He found only evil 
and in its place he hath put only that which 
is righteous in the sight of Amon. 

[298] 



The Secrets of the Desert 


“When Tutankhamen was a boy, I saw 
in his eyes the light of a great destiny, and 
the destiny of none hath been greater than 
that of him who is now dead. 

“The days roll on, but Egypt will never 
forget thee, O Great Master, and a halo of 
sanctity and reverence shall remain crowned 
upon thy tomb to all eternity. 

“The days of man are few, and in thy lit¬ 
tle span thou hast aspired to the pinnacles 
of immortal fame. But there are greater 
things than fame. 

“Within thy life thou hast conquered and 
thou hast reigned with knowledge and wis¬ 
dom. But there are greater things than 
knowledge and wisdom. 

“Within the days that were given unto 
thee, O Egypt, thou didst break down the 
barriers of all that was unrighteous, thou 
didst establish truth and thou didst main¬ 
tain peace, thou didst remain true to the god 

[ 299 ] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


of our country, thou didst become a king of 
kings. But there is a greater thing than 
majesty. 

“Thou didst do all that thou hast done 
because within thy heart there was an un¬ 
dying love for thy people, thy servants and 
thy empire. There is no greater thing than 
love. Because thou didst love as none other, 
Tutankhamen, there is none other like unto 
thee. 

“Unto me thou hast been a friend indeed. 
Farewell, dear friend and master. 

“Unto Rana thy wife thou hast been a 
noble husband and a noble lord. Go thou 
in peace. 

“Unto Amon thou hast been a loyal ser¬ 
vant, doing only that which Amon hath de¬ 
sired. Farewell, for thou goest into the 
bosom of Amon. 

“Unto thy country thou hast been a savior. 
Fare thee well, savior of thy country. Fare 
thee well!” 

[300] 



The Secrets of the Desert 


He turned toward the assembly and 
raised his hands aloft. Every head was 
bowed while the High Priest chanted the 
prayers for the departed. Then the silence 
was broken only by the sobbing of the 
woman who had lost, by the death of the 
King, a lover and a husband. 

El Caleb gazed long at her, as she re¬ 
mained bowed before the body of her lord, 
and then, his eyes moist with tears, he 
moved forward and gently raised her to her 
feet. 

“This day will pass, fair Rana, even as 
those which have gone before. Thy King 
hath passed, and Amon will provide for him 
in that place to which he hath gone. The 
breadth of eternity is greater than the mind 
of man. Come, thou, let us depart and leave 
our master within the bosom of his god. 
Amon will provide . . . Amon is god . . . 
Amon is good . . .” 

Rana nodded dully and obeyed, but she 

[301] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


could not speak. Not until the two had 
passed out again into the golden glow of 
evening did she say one word. And that 
word was “Amon.” 

And then, bidding the High Counselor 
wait for her at the entrance to the tomb, she 
moved slowly across the purple desert, now 
shrouded in the cool of evening and the 
haze that comes with the setting sun. 

Rana went alone. 

When she had passed so far that the silent 
watchers around the tomb had lost sight of 
her fair, frail form, she stopped and sank 
weakly to the sand. Her beautiful head 
raised and she gazed wonderingly into the 
gold and gray of the sky. Her cheeks were 
dry now, and there would be no more tears 
within those pondering eyes. 

She seemed awed by the hush of all 
things. She watched the golden orb that 
was the sun curve down beyond the ragged 
line of the horizon and her gaze dwelt upon 

[302] 



The Secrets of the Desert 


the dying purple crown that faded into gray 
and from gray into green. 

And still she remained motionless, look¬ 
ing up into the sky. 

And the light passed, and the moon came 
out, set in its cloth of stars, and Rana gazed, 
still . . . watching, wondering . . . 

She saw, in a vision framed within the 
arch of heaven, the sunny days of child¬ 
hood, the little courtyard where she played 
tirelessly with the lovely youth who 
had always watched eagerly for her com¬ 
ing. 

She saw, too, the cavern of Sampi, and 
the wonder of that evening when she and 
Tutankhamen had gone alone across the 
desert sand to hold sweet and sacred com¬ 
munion with their love. 

“Unto thee I shall be husband and lover. 
To me thou shalt be queen and wife . And 
thou shalt find naught but happiness in the 
world and love in my heart . . 

[303] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Even as thou lovest me, I will be the 
queen of thy heart . . 

The breast of the silent Rana heaved; but 
still she watched. 

She saw the day within the temple when 
she had stood upon the altar of sacrifice, the 
unlighted pile of fuel beneath her feet, 
when Tutankhamen had come to save her, 
as he had come to save Egypt. 

And she saw the glory of that day when 
Tutankhamen and Rana stood together be¬ 
fore the shrine of Amon, for the first time, 
as man and wife. 

And then the mist-clouds shrouded the 
scene from view, and the warmth that the 
vision brought to her heart chilled into a 
growing numbness . . . 

A shrieking voice pierced the stillness, its 
echo seeming to rend the skies in twain. 
The wind rose and sand beat upon her fra¬ 
gile body and to her ears there came the 
fearful words of Sampi: 

[304] 



The Secrets of the D % esert 


“Three thousand years . . . I see another 
race . . . another world . . . strangers 
upon the sands of the desert . . . they 
come unto thy tomb, Tutankhamen, and 
then . . .” 

“My love,” she cried, raising her hands 
to the skies, “speak to me! Tell me where 
thou art! This pain, this anguish, love, is 
eating my heart away!” 

But the wind swept furiously across the 
desert and there was no answer to her 
cry. 

Again her lips framed the words from 
her heart, but now there was no power 
within her frail body to utter the words 
which she would have spoken. 

She thought that, in a moment when the 
storm died away and the elements paused 
momentarily as if to gain breath for an even 
greater fury, there came the voice of him 
she loved somewhere from out of the sight¬ 
less distance. 

[305] 



The Kiss of Pharaoh 


“Rana . . . my love ... I hear thee. 
Come to me!” 

But at that moment something that was 

cold and clammy stole into her breast, and 

* 

into her heart, and into her soul, as it 
seemed. 

• • • • • 

When the watchers from the tomb, with 
the anxious El Caleb at their head, scoured 
the near-by desert for some sign of the lovely 
queen who had gone out alone but a few 
brief hours before, they found only the 
silken robe that the winds had rent away 
from her body as her hands were raised and 
her eyes saw, into the mysteries of the skies. 

It was said that Rana, too, had found her 
tomb, and that tomb was beneath the end¬ 
less swirl of sand that is the desert. 

The desert, vast and wonderful, that is 
sometimes golden, and sometimes gray, pur¬ 
ple sometimes, and sometimes devoid of all 
color . . . and if there are secrets within 

[306] 



The Secrets of the Desert 


the sanctuary of the desert that men have 
found and seen and talked about, there are 
also secrets which no man in all the world 
shall unfold to the gaze and to the knowl¬ 
edge of his fellows. 

From the distant past, and from the desert 
too, comes the tale of Tutankhamen and 
Rana, and those who, like these twain, shone 
in their various lights upon the pinnacles 
of a mighty empire, endured upon their 
thrones for but a little while, passed away, 
and were forgotten. The desert held their 
secrets, as it held their lives, within its 
mighty bosom. 

But there is nothing new in all the world, 
and the story of Tutankhamen who reigned 
for a space over the vast empire of the East, 
is the story of men and women of all ages, 
all countries, all tongues . . . unto this day. 

THE END 


[307] 





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